


Fire Emblem Awakening: Rise of the Fell Dragon

by Ninjaman2



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Accidental Relationship, Bisexual Female Character, Bisexual Male Character, Bisexuality, Blood, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, F/M, Falling In Love, Fantasy, Female My Unit | Reflet | Robin, Graphic Description, M/M, Male My Unit | Reflet | Robin, Mind Control, My Unit | Reflet | Robin is Lucina's Parent, Nowi is an adult for legal reasons, Nudity, Partial Nudity, Public Nudity, Retelling, Swearing, Violence, Yandere
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2020-01-23 00:55:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 20,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18539005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ninjaman2/pseuds/Ninjaman2
Summary: A retelling of FE:A but how I played it on my first save file featuring some extra and new bits to spice up the action and make it original. May cross over into other games plots like Heroes, or contain ideas from those games like Kitsune.





	1. Premonition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I said, this is a retelling of my first playthrough so I didn't get certain characters (at the time or ever) and the relationships in this are the ones that happened during my playthrough, which is why Robin isn't called Robin. However I will be changing things that happened in my playthrough to add more spice to the story (Tharja being alive in the story and not a bloodstain of Frederick's hammer).

The heat of the room was unbearable. Sweat dripped down his face as he forced his eyes open to once again fall upon his foe. Validar’s evil smile grew as he saw the fatigue in the tactician’s eyes. Another magical blast. His vision blurred. He could vaguely see shapes and hear voices.

“Up there!” rang a familiar male voice. Chrom. By his side again.

“You fool!” The cold that dripped down his spine coiled from the other voice’s words. Validar. Another magical blast pushed Chrom and himself back. He allowed himself to exhale slightly, but that only brought about another wave of nausea and fatigue. Glancing towards the wall of dark purple fire, he could vaguely see the shapes and hear the sounds of other miniature battles growing. ‘The others are here? They weren’t supposed to be’, he thought. His vision blurred again but as it did, a firm hand grasped his shoulder and held him steady. Looking up, he saw the still smiling face of Chrom, the reassuring sight allowing his vision to refocus.

“Don’t give up on my yet, this is it! Our final battle! You're one of us, Martin, and no "destiny" can change that. Now let's kill this bastard and be done with it!” Chrom reassured proudly. There was a strong bond between Lord and Tactician present between the pair of men. “Martin, we have to get closer. Let's move!” and practically dragging the exhausted tactician, Chrom once again charged their enemy.

“Ha, ha, ha!” Validar laughed, “Why do you resist?” the villain continued to mock the duo as they charged the evil mage.

‘Good, he's almost within reach. Let's move in and strike!’ Chrom thought, once again drawing his trusted falchion as Martin readied a Thoron spell. The long bolt of electrical magic hummed and throbbed deeply around his left hand and the spell tome in his fight. Chrom swung his blade upwards at the wizard’s exposed chest, but he sidestepped and fired a deep purple spell at Martin, who was flung backwards, dropping his tomb – the spell dissipated. He lay there, eyes open, but clouded over. The tactician didn’t move.

“Martin! No! This can't be how it ends!” screamed Chrom, tears opening spilling down his face.

“Heh, heh, heh... GYA HA, HA, HA!” laughed Validar manically. However, in his ignorance and bliss, Chrom was able to react, spinning around; he plunged the falchion deep into Validar’s chest, and as he did, Martin exhaled loudly and pulled himself up. “This isn't over...” Validar declared, his whole body shaking, wracked with pain and anger. “Damn you BOTH!!” he unleashed a huge ball of deadly purple energy which shot blindingly fast towards the prince. The tactician, on the other hand, had different plans for the blue haired prince. Martin lunged forward and took the brunt of the blast, falling to his knees and slightly coughing blood. As he wretched in pain. The fain aura of energy around Validar dissipated and the man quickly withered into a husk before falling face first onto the cold stone ground.

“Are you all right?” Chrom asked compassionately, immediately turning his attention away from the battle. He eased Martin into a sitting position before continuing. “That's the end of him.” Announced Chrom pridefully. “Thanks to you we carried the day. We can rest easy now.” There was true joy in the face and voice of the prince as he pulled his best friend’s arm over his shoulders and eased him off the ground. “At long last...” Chrom muttered wistfully, staring into the distance. Energy began to throb around Martin’s hand again. His vision blurred and his mind screamed in pain – as if it was about to tear itself apart! “...What's wrong?” Chrom asked compassionately again, noticing his friend’s pained expression. Martin began to fall again. “Hey, hang on—” Chrom began, but he was cut short but his own gasp. Both men saw the energy from around Martin’s hand fire off into Chrom’s chest, a spear like bolt of electrical magic had pierced the armoured chest of the prince. Blood began to stain the fabric of his armour. Martin was too shocked and panicked to speak, he just stared in fear at his own handiwork. As if sensing his friend’s fear, Chrom muttered; “This is not your— your fault...”. Tears streamed down the silenced tactician’s face. “Promise me…” Chrom continued. “Promise me! Promise me you'll escape from this place...” Pleaded the dying prince. Martin’s very soul paled. “Please, go...” Chrom then fell to the ground, cold and lifeless thanks to the magic of his own best friend.

Chrom was dead. And that is how it all began.


	2. Prolouge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Story unfinished so tags are likely and subject to change. Smut is still on the fence but if it happens it will be much later in the story and clearly noted so if people want to read it they can and if they don't, they don't.

There was extreme darkness, but that was about the only thing he was sure of. Then he heard voices, three of them, distinctly three. And one he recognised. Faintly. He couldn’t think of who it belonged to. The puzzle was missing the one piece it needed. The voiced drifted near, and then they went silent. Then they began again. Eventually, as the darkness faded. He realized he could understand them.

“Chrom, we have to do SOMETHING.” A frightened female voice declared.

“What do you propose we do?” The voice that must’ve belonged to Chrom responded.

“I... I dunno...” The female replied. His eyes eventually fluttered open and he saw the two who were so thoroughly discussing him. One was a short petite young girl with messy blonde hair that formed two long twin pony tales and wore a simple beige and yellow dress that was pushed out below the waist by an iron skirt underneath the fabric. The man was tall and ruggedly handsome man with a chiselled jawline and sparkling blue eyes. But that’s not the only thing blue about the man. Apart from the navy-blue cloth that adorned his muscular form, his hair was a messy blue crown – even his eyebrows and the faint wisps of hair that grew across his chin and the formation of a beard.

“I see you're awake now.” The blue haired man said, turning attention to the previously unconscious man. Speaking of the unconscious man, he himself was probably around average height with short and slightly styled brown hair and a soft, more happy face than most from his homeland (default My Unit but with brown hair).

“Hey there!” The girl said to the man after noticing his awakening.

“There are better places to take a nap than on the ground you know.” Chrom laughed, “Give me your hand.” Chrom extended his left arm which met with his right and as he was pulled up, he noticed two things – one about Chrom and the other about himself. Chrom’s left arm was uncovered, unarmoured, unprotected and on the westward side of his shoulder was a strange birthmark which almost looked like an ancient symbol of some kind – it seemed familiar to him. The other thing was that one his right hand was a strange purple tattoo which appeared to be a series of circles connected by lines. He had no idea what it was or meant. “You all right?” Chrom asked with genuine concern.

“Y-yes... Thank you, Chrom.” The man said, recoiling at his own voice – it sounded foreign to him.

Chrom’s eyes narrowed at his response and general manner. “Ah, then you know who I am?”

“No, actually, I... It's strange... Your name, it just...came to me... or someone said it… I’m not really sure which” Muttered the man. His accent sending red flags and alarms off in Chrom’s head.

“...Hmm, how curious. Tell me, what's your name? What brings you here?” Chrom asked, steadying his breath.

“My name is... It's... Hmm? Name?” Muttered the man again, his confusion seem genuine to Chrom, however his accent was still causing Chrom some difficulty – not un-understandable, just dangerous.

“...You don't know your own name?” Asked Chrom wearily. The blonde-haired girl’s face grew with shock and concern with each exchanged sentence. While another man, a hulking behemoth of armour and presence loomed behind the pair, hand griped firmly on a shiny new spear – he was clearly eager to try it out.

“I'm not sure if... I'm sorry, but where am I, exactly? I can’t think… remember a thing” responded the man directly. Now the girl was done being silent.

“Hey, I've heard of this! It's called amnesia!” She interject excitedly. No one else shared her enthusiasm.

“It's called a load of Pegasus dung. We're to believe you remember milord's name, but not your own?” announced the large man, stepping between the pair and the amnesiac.

“B-but it's the truth!” stammered the man. Chrom took the time, while his loyal guardian and new discovery argued, to study the man. He wore a long brown robe over simple armour and had a bronze sword, shoddy and cheap, clipped to a belt. He also had something else, a book perhaps, resting in his robes, but Chrom couldn’t see it clearly.

Not having payed attention to whether or not the conversation still lingered on the topic, Chrom continued from earlier: “...What if it IS true, Frederick? We can't just leave him here, alone and confused. What sort of Shepherds would we be then?” Unfortunately, this didn’t silence the giant.

“Just the same, milord, I must emphasize caution. 'Twould not do to let a wolf into our flock.” Acknowledge Frederick.

Chrom nodded, the accent of the supposed wolf still lingering in his mind. “Right then—we'll take him back to town and sort this out there.” Concluded Chrom.

“Wait just one moment. Do I have a say in this?” Argued the robed man, but Chrom interrupted,

“Peace, friend—I promise we'll hear all you have to say back in town. Now come.”

*

A few hours passed in silence as the group and their new found amnesiac travelled towards the nearest town. Eventually however, it was the amnesiac who broke the silence,

“What will you do with me? Am I to be your prisoner?” He asked cautiously

“Hah!” Chrom laughed, “You'll be free to go, once we establish you're no enemy of Ylisse.”

“Is that where we are? Ylisse?”

“You've never heard of the halidom? Ha! Someone pay this actor. He plays quite the fool! The furrowed brow is especially convincing...” Frederick mocked and interjected.

Chrom shook his head and silenced his giant guardian. “Frederick, please. This land is known as the Halidom of Ylisse. Our ruler, Emmeryn, is called the exalt.” He paused, “I suppose proper introductions are in order... My name is Chrom—but then, you already knew that. The delicate one here is my little sister, Lissa.” Chrom began,

“I am NOT delicate! ...Hmph!” Argued the small female, now identified as Lissa. “Ignore my brother, please. He can be a bit thick sometimes. But you're lucky the Shepherds found you. Brigands would've been a rude awakening!”

The man paused, pondering her words. Shepherds?

“Shepherds? You tend sheep? ...In full armour?” he soon asked

“Heh, it's a dangerous job. Just as Frederick the Wary here.” Chrom laughed

“A title I shall wear with pride. Gods forbid one of us keeps an appropriate level of caution. I have every wish to trust you, stranger, but my station mandates otherwise.” Frederick asserted. He desire warmed the strangers heart, apparently nobody dislikes him and well that should be everybody’s goal after waking up with no memories.

“I understand, sir. I would do no less myself.” He agreed, then however, he gasped, “My name is Martin. ...I just remembered that. How odd. I suppose that's one mystery solved.”

They had neared the town gate now and Chrom spun the eye the now identified stranger. “Martin? Is that foreign?” If he was a wolf’, Chrom thought, ‘probably best not to mention Plegia – it might set him off.’ Then there was the sounds of screaming and suddenly several large black columns of smoke rose from the small town that slept nearby. “...Ah, well. We can discuss it later. We're almost to town. Once we—”

“Chrom, look! The town!” Lissa injected, pointing and gesticulating wildly towards the town. The group now turned to face the town and saw that most of it was aflame and several men and women dressed as bandits were pillaging the town.

“Damn it! The town is ablaze! Those blasted brigands, no doubt... Frederick, Lissa! Quickly!” Chrom ordered,

“What about him?” Argued Frederick,

“Unless he's on fire as well, it can wait!” Declared Chrom drawing a long silver sword that grew from a hollow bulb at its hilt. The Falchion, a divine blade.

“Aptly put, milord.” Nodded Frederick the Wary, who upon his horse charged the town gate.

“Let's go already!” Lissa cried to Chrom and the two sprinted after the knight on horseback.

“But what about—" Martin began, but then he noticed the bronze sword pinned to his waist, “Hmm...” he had an idea.


	3. The First Battle

“Gwa ha, ha! Get to it, lads! Grab anything shiny and put the rest to the torch! We gots an example to set for these Ylissean types! Ain't that right, lass?” A balding, barely clothed barbarian of a man ordered before reaching out and grabbing a young girl who had run out of a nearby burning building, her dress slightly aflame.

“S-stay away from me! Please! Someone! HEEEEEELP!” she cried in fear as he ripped off her blouse, laughing evilly.

Then, on armoured horseback the brown-haired head of Frederick the wary immerged on the other side of a small farmers market, pushing brigands over and into the nearby canals. His silver spear already wet with brigand blood. Soon after, Chrom and Lissa emerged, Chrom holding one arm protectively around Lissa while the other gripped a clean Falchion.

“Chrom, we have to stop them!” Lissa cried, noticing the girl held in the barbarian leader’s grip. She was little older than Lissa was.

“Don't worry—after today, these bandits won't be bothering anyone ever again...” Chrom swore, charging an unsuspecting brigand and slashing him down the chest. The falchion through bone like a knife and butter. Blood seeped violently from the wound as the man gurgled to his silent rest on the ground.

Another brigand jumped Lissa from behind, this one was female and held a dagger in her hands. Hearing movement, Lissa rotated only to see her enemy cut down before her. With shaky hands, Martin pulled the blade out of the woman’s waist.

“Martin!” Cried Lissa graciously.

“Martin! You followed us! Why?” Asked a shocked Chrom turning away from the battle upon hearing Lissa’s words.

“I... I’m not certain myself. But I'm armed, and I know my way around a fight, if you'll have me.” Martin responded bluntly.

“Of course—strength in numbers. Just stay close!” Chrom ordered before surging towards his next victim.

Martin followed suit dashing behind cover, clutching his sword in two hands, then behind him, he heard the whiz of an arrow and then the sound of metal slamming together. Frederick had come to his aid and blocked the arrow with his impressive blue armoured form. “Remember, Martin, we face practised thieves and murderers. They will grant us no quarter. It's kill or be killed.” He reminded before charging the archer and skewering them on the tip of his spear. Martin rose to his feet and flung himself over the baskets of fruit and slashed the throat of an axe wielding enemy soldier, blood poured out of the open wound and down his neck as he gasped and felt to his knees. Giving him mercy, Martin forced his blade through the exposed chest of the man, answering his plea for silence.

Another arrow.

_Whiz._

_Thunk._

Blood.

The arrow embedded itself in shoulder of Martin while his back was turned. He yelled in pain and spun towards the archer and instinctively raised his left hand, unclasped around his blade, out of it shot a small electrical blast which launched itself at the archer who was hiding in the village’s canal. The blast electrified the water and vaporized the archer who scream under the intense pain of the magical blast.

“You know magic?” Chrom muttered, shocked at the sight he just witnessed. Chrom had heard Martin’s pained yelling and arrived to help.

“I... believe so? I suppose I should check.” Martin groaned, pulling the arrow out of his shoulder.

“You believe so? Perhaps I'll just keep a few paces behind you for the time being...” Chuckled lightly, despite the situation.

“No, I can control it, I'm sure. Now, how did this work again? Ah, yes...” He raised raising his left hand again, the tome on his belt glowed with a similar yellow hue. He fired off another electrical blast, this one hitting the leader of brigands who were raiding the town.

Lissa and Frederick rushed over to see what the commotion was,

“We'll see who's delicate! I may not be able to attack like Chrom, but when you get injured? I'LL be the one stitching your bones back together, care of my trusty staff!” Lissa muttered angrily under her breath, raising her staff towards Martin’s shoulder. As the blood disappeared and the wound healed, Martin watched as even the fabric of his robe repaired itself under the magic of her staff.

“Is anyone else hurt? It would be foolish to leave a wound untreated.” Chrom asked around.

“Indeed. Timely use of a staff or a vulnerary should prevent the worst.” Martin muttered, surprising everyone with this knowledge.

“Still with us, Robin?” Asked a concerned Chrom.

“Hmm... It's strange. Here on the battlefield, I can... Well, I can "see" things.”

“See things?”

“The enemy's strength, their weaponry, the flow of battle... I must have studied this somewhere.”

“So, you're saying you can size up the enemy at a glance?”

“Yes, it would seem so. And perhaps more, if I apply myself...” Martin began to move towards the brigand leader who was jeering and mocking the group for couching and hiding (except for Frederick who found it particularly hard to hide on horseback) in the market stalls.

“Don't rush into danger.” Chrom ordered, weary of Martin’s lack of combat skill.

“I'm fine, Chrom. Don't worry.” Reassured the tactically trained brunette.

Casually, the group moved together towards the unguarded leader of the assailing brigands.

“You've lent us your strength, and that makes you a friend. Having an ally by my side gives me courage.” Chrom acknowledged towards the strange man.

“Thank you, but...I think there's more to it than that.” Martin began,

“What do you mean?” Chrom asked, slashing at a brigand who had attempted to surprise them as the crossed the bridge towards the town’s church.

“I believe there's a tactical advantage to fighting side by side... It's fuzzy... Wait, yes: working in pairs improves strength, defence, speed... Yes, yes, I'm sure of it!” Martin pondered.

“Well, lets use this to our advantage and all strike as one. Martin: magic. Frederick: left side. I’ll go right” Chrom ordered.

“Ah… like the winter solidus incident…” Frederick mused.

“I told you to stop bringing that up!” Ordered and embarrassed Chrom.

“Here, sheepy, sheepy! Come to the slaughter!” Jeered the barbarian, who clearly hadn’t bathed in many a year as the vile smell the came off him was enough to make everybody else want a bath.

Martin launched another lightning spell and Chrom and Frederick charged the man from either side, with his simple axe, the brigand could do little to defend himself. Lissa cheered as the small remaining chunks of the man flopped limply to the floor.

“Well, that's the end of that.” Martin acknowledged.

“Lucky for the town, we were close by. But holy wow, Robin! You were incredible! Swords, sorcery, AND tactics! Is there anything you can't do?” Lissa cheered again gabbing hold of both of Martin’s hands. He gave shy and embarrassed chuckle.

“You're certainly no helpless victim, that much is for sure.” Chrom agreed.

“Indeed. Perhaps you might even be capable of an explanation for how you came here?” Frederick interject after checking on the frightened young girl and seeing if she was ok.

“I understand your scepticism, Sir Frederick. And I cannot explain why only some knowledge has returned to me. But please, believe me. I have shared all that I know.” Martin solemnly explained.

“You fought to save Ylissean lives. My heart says that's enough.” Chrom argued.

“And your mind, milord? Will you not heed its counsel as well?” Frederick countered.

“Frederick, the Shepherds could use someone with Martin's talents. We've brigands and unruly neighbours, all looking to bloody our soil. Would you really have us lose such an able tactician? Besides, I believe his story, odd as it might be.” Chrom argued again.

“Th-thank you, Chrom.” Martin stammered, the shyness glowing in his voice.

“So how about it? Will you join us, Robin?” Chrom asked

“I would be honoured”

*

“Did you notice, milord? The brigands spoke with a Plegian accent.” Frederick pointed out after they had helped to douse the flames of the village and clear up any remaining enemies.

“Plegian? What's that?” Martin asked

“Plegia is Ylisse's westerly neighbour. They send small bands into our territory, hoping to instigate a war. And that accent is all too similar to yours – probably why Frederick here was so weary of you.” Chrom explain.

“I’m Plegian?” Martin asked, shocked by the revelation.

“No… more likely of Plegian descent, your complexion is too light to be from that kingdom” Frederick explained. Then suddenly a villager appeared, the girl from earlier clinging to the older man as he rushed over to the Shepherds.

“Milord, please! You must stay the night! We are simple folk of simple means, but we would gladly toast your valour with a feast!” he begged the village heroes.

“A most generous offer, sir, and no doubt your hospitality would be grand... But I'm afraid we must hurry back to Ylisstol.” Declined Frederick.

Lissa, however, had only half been paying attention as the mention of a feast caught her attention, and appetite. “Dark meat only for me, medium well, and no salt in the soup. I simply— Wait, what?! We're not staying?! But, Frederick, it's nearly dark!” she whined.

“When night falls, we'll camp. Eat off the land, make our bed of twigs and the like... I believe you mentioned you would be ‘getting used to this’?” Frederick retorted, using her own rhetoric against her.

“Frederick? Sometimes I hate you.” Lissa continued her whining

“You've quite the stern lieutenant there.” Martin whispered learning in to Lissa so only she could hear.

“Yeah, well, "stern" is one name for it. I can think of a few others!” She shouted obnoxiously loud.

“Frederick only smiles when he's about to bring down the axe.” Chrom explain

“Duly noted.” Robin said, eying the blue armoured knight, noticing the white shirt and black tie that just stuck up beneath his plate armour.

“*Ahem* You do realize I AM still present?” Fredrick said, a slight twitch in his eye as he did so

“Oh, we realize.” Chrom laughed alongside Lissa and Martin

“Milord remains as amusing as ever.” Frederick acknowledged sarcastically, “Now then, shall we be going?”

“All right, all right. Ready to go, Martin? The capital isn't far.”

“Capital? Capital seems important to me… I don’t know why.” Martin muttered as the group wandered out of the rescued town.

“Perhaps you lived in Ylisstol?” Lissa suggested.

“Maybe…? I don’t have the foggiest idea” Martin muttered.

“We’ll be sure to ask around when we get there. Guessing by the nature of your robes you likely part of the wealthy middle class” Chrom noted as the group disappeared along the farm roads towards Ylisstol.


	4. Marth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guess who's not dead? Guess who isn't abandoning this story? I'm about to go on holiday, and given that my American holidays have lead to great literary feats (I'm looking at you New World Saga), so I'm likely to continue with this and do major work on The Lord of Death and the Chronicles Story so writing with be quiet sporadic, well more than usual.

Lissa was whining again. “Gods, couldn't you spear us an animal normal people eat for once? I mean, come on! Who eats bear?! You're meddling with the food chain. Right, Martin? ...Uh, Martin?” Unfortunately for her argument, Martin was enjoying the bear meat. It was tough and chewy but other than that, it tasted fine. “*Sigh* I suppose a person would enjoy just about anything after not eating for days...” Lissa conceded.

The group was sat around a small campsite. Frederick rested on a log with his silver spear in hand in case of incursion – wild animal or other. While the other rested on simple bed rolls. Martin having taken Frederick’s, who planned on staying watch all night. The camp fire in the middle acted as the only source of light for miles and the thick forest that surrounded them gave an immense shadow over the land, making it dark – even during the summer afternoons.

Soon after the group was asleep, Frederick, under the orders of Chrom had joined them in sleep, instead of staying guard. Martin still had ownership of his bed rolls. Sleep felt different to the unending darkness he was trapped in before he awoke to meet Chrom and the others. Sleep felt blissful and easy while the earlier darkness was all-encompassing and felt claustrophobic. Despite not being accustomed to sleep, he remained in the deepest as it was Chrom that drifted to consciousness first. Then Lissa.

“*Yawn* What's wrong, Big Brother?” Asked the tired healer.

“Sorry, I didn't meant to wake you, but... Something is amiss...” Chrom whispered in response reattaching his belt and scabbard around his waist.

“Define ‘something.’” Moaned Lissa, eager to return to sleep, but curious at what had awoken her brother.

“I'm not sure... I think I'll have a look around.” Chrom said as he began to drift off into the woods.

“Not alone, you won't! I'm coming too.” Lissa argued, grabbing her staff and quietly rushing after her brother.

“Thanks Lissa” He silently said as the two drifted into the woods together.

*

“It sure is dark. ...And quiet. Where did the birds go?” Lissa eventually said, scared and eager to break the silence.

“Something is wrong here...” Chrom said, pointing out the blatantly obvious.

“Define ‘something.’” Repeated Lissa.

Then in the place of silence, was noise, incredible noise. The sound of rock and tree and bush and plant tearing themselves apart as this entire world began to shake.

“Aaah! Chrom!” Lissa began to scream in response to the immense noise and earthquake.

“Gods, what— Agh! What is this madness?! Lissa, stay close!” Chrom cried fearfully.

The tremors continued as ground began to rise and fall, giving way in certain areas as whole areas of forest land began to erupt and shatter. Quickly, this torrent of land and trees shot towards the siblings who watched in fear.

“Lissa, run.” Chrom ordered

“Huh?” Lissa responded, too stunned to give a real answer.

“I mean it! Go!” Chrom yelled, pushing his sibling backwards and away from the coming landslide. Then as she began sprinting away, he quickly followed, not eager to be crushed. The ground beneath where they had just been began to rise and crack; splitting and melting as whole sections of timber land began to shift. And as that section rose into the air, an orange glow from deep within the earth began to seep out. A roaring column of molten magma rose into the air as the earthquake’s pressure forced it upwards. The magma began to lash out at the trees and bushland around them, melting and burning as it pursued the shepherds. Soon the forest was alight as balls of tephra like that of a volcanic eruption were being launched from the collapsing and rising land onto the forest ground. All the while Chrom and Lissa continued running and leaping from one stretch of land to the other. “Hey! This way!” Chrom yelled to his sister, pointing towards the stretch of land that contained their camp, however Frederick and Martin weren’t visible. Chrom, narrowly avoiding another volcanic bomb, leaped from a newly formed cliff-face onto the ground below and twisted around to catch his flailing sister who similarly leaped from the cliff.

They ran for what felt like hours. All the while, magma and volcanic debris bombarded the simple woodland causing it to burn and unleash massive amounts of smoke into the night sky. Eventually, they reach as safe distance, where Chrom stopped to take in the carnage.

“Chrom, what IS that?!” Lissa cried behind him, shattering the silence. Chrom turned to see what she was pointing at, and immediately wished his hadn’t.

All the stars in the sky were gone. Their guiding light blocked by the smoke and ash. But in their place was new bright glowing white lights which grew and grew and grew, then began to condense and condense and condense until, they exploded into a vibrant displace of light which formulated into a black hole surrounded by glowing and spinning golden disks covered in golden runes. And as the runes and disks finished forming across the night’s sky, new white lights appeared in the black hole. Glowing white crystals formed in a line almost like the eyelashes of a closed eye. Then it opened. A glowing blue sphere with a black shape in its centre like a pupil, bordered by glowing white crystals. And as the giant eye shone brighter, shapes began to immerge from the eye. Humanoid with withered flesh and limp jaws, grey skin with sunken empty eye sockets. They were armoured like simple soldiers. All loosely clutched iron axes. They flopped out of the giant eye and collided with the ground. There was an army of them. Two rose from the ground and stared at Chrom and Lissa with their empty eye sockets, which were soon filled with small evil red lights.

Chrom drew his sword protectively while Lissa cowered behind him, “Lissa. You'd better stand back.”

As the creature immerged from the shadow of the woods, one roared at Chrom – its voice sounding vaguely humanoid. Then with an unnatural speed, they charged Chrom and Lissa, axes in hand. One leapt into the air, axe raised above it to strike down at Chrom, who quickly changed his stance to block the assailant’s attack. He surged forward and slashed the creature across it’s middle. There was no groan or thud. Chrom turned to see that it still stood. While its body didn’t move, its head rotated fully backwards and it roared at him again, its body snapping around to swing its axe at Chrom; who once again parried the attack. However their weapons became locked in a stalemate as both tried to push the other back with their weapons. Quickly, Chrom pull his Falchion away causing the creature to fall forward, given the shift in balance, with it unguarded, Chrom forced the creature back with all of his might and leapt into the air and slammed the tip of the blade into the creature’s back. He forced the blade as deep as it would go into the creature and held it their as the creature screamed an ear-piercing scream before fading into dust. Chrom panted and he still clutched his blade, it had taken everything he had just to kill one of them. One of them, Chrom realized. There was a second. “Lissa!” Chrom cried looking up and seeing his younger sister backed up against a rock holding her staff out in front of her protectively while the other creature loomed over her.

Unbeknownst to any of them, another shape protruded from the glowing eye. This one unlike the thousands which still poured into the forest and surrounding areas.

Meanwhile, the creature raised it axe ready to strike down upon the unarmed Lissa. The new figure and Chrom sprinted forwards however the new figure reached Lissa first, holding their blade behind them to block the axe strike. Chrom and Lissa stared in awe at this new figure. They appeared male, which short smooth blue hair like Chrom’s and a metal face mask shaped like a butterfly. They were dressed in a simple blue outfit with little armour and a red shield crest emblazoned on their scabbard strap. But the most peculiar thing, wasn’t their outfit. It was an exact replica of Chrom’s Falchion, which as a one of a kind weapon, should have been impossible. Turning to the side to face Chrom, the new figure yelled: “Help!” to the shocked warrior.

“...Right!” Chrom realised and dashed towards the creature, sword in hand, distracting the creature. Using this opportunity, the figure kicked the creature back and spun round to its side, and at the same time as Chrom surged forward; slashing through the creature. Both swordsmen pulling the same pose after finishing the double move. The creature dissipated into purple smoke shortly after the counterattack. And then there was silence, save for the dim roar of the flames in the distance. Both men sheaved their blades as Lissa watched the newcomer in awe. “Quite an entrance.” Chrom muttered in a standoffish nature to their rescuer. “What's your name?” he asked, formally. The figure simply turned their head and looked at Chrom, wordlessly.

Movement in the bushes. Then Frederick on horseback and Martin, sword drawn, arrived on the scene looking haggard and out of breath.

“Milord! Milady! Are you hurt?” Frederick cried, arriving on the scene.

“Frederick! Martin!” Lissa cried, tears rushing to her eyes and streaming down her face as she rushed to Martin and forced him into a tight hug. In the distance, more creature began to rise from the darkness, around ten to twelve of them. They waited in a forest clearing, motionless they stared at the sheppards and the newcomer.

“Are such horrific creatures commonplace in these lands?” Martin asked, his voice full of fear and confusion.

“They're not from Ylisse, I promise you that.” Chrom muttered, then he glanced around and gasped, noticing the mysterious swordsman had disappeared.

“Thank the masked man who saved me! If it wasn't for him, I'd be... Hey, where did he go?” Lissa realised and looked around with Chrom, but unfortunately, the creature had begun shuffling towards them.

“We can worry about him later, AFTER we put these...things...to the blade. Eyes open, now. We know nothing about this enemy.”

Frederick’s horse galloped into the clearing, grateful to be free of the constricting trees and dashed towards the nearest creature, he forced his spear through the beast, but it shrugged off what should’ve been a mortal wound, quickly fleeing, Frederick dropped the weapon and returned to the treeline.

“Frederick, your attacks are too light; you’ll need to put everything you’ve got into destroying these things.” Chrom explained once his bodyguard had returned.

“What do you propose, Milord, we’re outnumbered?” Frederick asked.

“Martin, you know tactics, right? Give us a strategy!” Chrom ordered, not loosening his stare on the slowly advancing warriors.

“Lissa can’t fight, but we can. We can’t heal, but Lissa can. If we form a protective barrier around Lissa – Frederick in front and me and Chrom either side of her. We should gain support benefits as well as keep her safe while allowing her to heal and wounds we get – and if we attack together we’re more likely to kill the monsters. I suppose.” He proposed.

“One or two more fighters on our side wouldn’t help. Gods, this enemy is making me miss Vaike, something I thought would never happen!” Frederick said.

“Who’s Vaike?” asked a curious Martin.

“Doesn’t matter!” Chrom said, “Keep your eyes on the enemy and we’ll advance together. We’ll win this – I know we will!” Chrom yelled.

Then suddenly, as if responding to his voice, a new figure breached the nearby treeline into the field. On horseback, it was a woman with short unkempt red hair and an ungodly amount of muscle. She rode a horse around the same size a Fredericks and was about as tall as the giant of a man himself. She also wore crimson light plate armour and had a nasty scar running up from her top lip.

“Captain Chrom! Wait! I'm coming! ...Agh, I knew I shouldn'ta left 'em. All right, you ash-faced freaks! Which one of ya wants to try my lance on for size first? I know just the spot for it: shoved right up your—” her voice was as deep and masculine as rage filled as her introduction was, luckily though, before she could disgrace everyone’s ears, she was interrupted by yet another character. Emphasis on _character_.

“Hold, milady!” he said, sprinting after the horseback warrior. He wore finely embroidered clothing with a very thin layer of protective armour and had a light cyan mane of hair which was swept backwards and down his body. He also wore an expensive looking quiver and held an ornate iron bow. Which had his name carved into it in fine calligraphy. Virion. “Life may be long, but attraction is fleeting! Would you leave me in your sweet dust? Leave war to the warriors, dear bird! A beauty such as you need wage only love.” He flirted with the horseback Amazonian of a woman.

The redhead looked at the man with an extremely confused expression in a look which lasted the silence of a minute or two before responding, adequately, “...The hell are you?!”

“Ha! Is the lady intrigued? Of course you are—it's only natural. I am myth and legend! I am he who strides large across history's greatest stage! The man who puts the "arch" in "archer"! My name, dear lady, is Vi—" he was cut off, the redhead had noticed Chrom’s conspicuous blue hair.

“Sorry, Ruffles—no time for this. Onward!”

“Virion!” it took him a moment to notice she was ignoring him. “...Er, my name. It's Virion. W-wait! Where are you going? Pray, at least tell me your name!” he sprinted after him with a strange wobbling gait which showed how unfit the man was.

“I'm Sully. ...And I'm a Shepherd.” She barked back at him as her horse sped towards the other shepherds.

"Sully"! How divine! A starkly beautiful name, as befits its owner, truly. Will you marry me, my dearest Sully?” he proposed, despite their location on a battle field. Meanwhile, the other shepherds watched in sheer confusion.

“Will I what now? Oh wait, I get it... This is a joke. And when I put my boot through your face—that's the punch line.” She reeled her horse around to face the man in shock.

“P-please, milady! Allow me to accompany you, at least! Mine is a cold, empty world without you. I shall be your most willing servant, and you, in turn, will give my life purpose...” he begged, on his knees in the dirt.

“*Sigh* Fine... Anything to shut you up. ...What? Stop staring at me like that!” she gave in and then continued toward her captain.

 “Well Frederick, you got your two people” Martin pointed out. “I’ll need to reconfigure this strategy with them in mind, you guys watch the enemy.”

“Strategy?” Virion asked curiously.

“Yes, I’m the Shepherds’ new tactician… I make strategies” Martin responded, not really paying much attention to Virion.

“Why would animal herders need a strategy?”

“Woah get a load of this guy. ‘ _Archiest of Archers_ ’ and he doesn’t know who the shepherds are… who doesn’t know who the shepherds are?!” Martin ironically joked and the others (including Frederick, and excluding the very embarrassed Virion) laughed, despite the situation.

“Hmph! Well listen well Mr Strategy. Goddesses and gentlemen, might I have your attention? I, as it happens, am an archer! ... _The archest of archers_ , in fact, not archiest. As such, I attack most effectively from a distance. So kindly keep me one step away from peril, if you would!”

“Got it!” Martin muttered, using his sword to draw lines in the dirt to draw out his plan.

Eventually, the plan was set. Frederick and Sully would ride side by side in the front with Frederick attacking on the left and Sully on the right. Behind them would be Lissa, bordered on either side by Chrom and Martin, with Virion in the back, using arrows the damage their enemies as their approached.

Spell after spell, slash after slash, the strategy was working. Chrom watched as Sully speared a creature and leapt off her horse to grab the creatures head and tear it in half, she clapped her hands together – brushing off dust and dirt – as the creature dissolved into dusk. Or as Frederick coordinated his sword slashes with Martin’s own to dice up the monster.

“I appears that rather than brute force, multiple simultaneous or powerful attack are what it takes to destroy these invincible foes” Martin corrected their previous assumptions, “These creature would be extremely capable of destroying an army whose soldiers fight traditionally in one on one situations.”

“Like the Ylissean army” Sully muttered, climbing back onto her horse.

Beast after beast. Cloud of dust after cloud of dust. The creature dissolved, melted and faded under the teamwork of the group. Till finally, they encountered the big one.

A hulking behemoth of muscle who wielded two serrated axes and roared at them like a savage beast.

“Ryaaargh!” it screamed as Martin and Chrom dashed towards it. Chrom forced the falchion into the creature’s exposed back as it tried to swing wildly at Martin, who danced around his weapon and, charging his bronze sword with a thunder spell, forced the electrified blade into the creature’s face. Then, Chrom pulled his blade right as Martin pulled his own to the left and simultaneously, the two attacks entered and tore the creature apart. “Nnh...aaagh...” was the final noise which escaped its foul cracked lips before it stumbled face first onto the ground, dead.

With the massive beast slain, the group took the time for a breather. The forest still roared with flames around them, but what was no longer around them, was more of the creatures. The ones that weren’t slain by the team had vanished into thin air. Some had fled into the flaming forest land around them, while others met their end at the hands of a bizarre blue haired swordsman.

“It seems all the creatures are vanquished. This young man took care of the others.” Frederick muttered glaring at the man and Chrom, Lissa and Martin lightly jogged towards them.

There was no response from the man.

“Um, I never got to thank you...for before. So... thank you. You were very brave.” Lissa squeaked.

The face under the mask was stone. And it certainly didn’t change after Lissa’s statement.

“You saved my sister's life. My name is Chrom. Might I ask yours?” Chrom suggested, attempting to coax out any secret of the blue haired male, especially their sword.

There was a slight pause. A small quiver in his lips. A finger twitch. Which went almost entirely unnoticed, except from the trained eyes of Frederick and Martin, though neither showed any signs of caring, so long as it wasn’t a threatening sign.

“You may call me Marth.” The swordsman responded eventually, there was a slight waver in the voice. This peaked Frederick’s interests, though given the extreme exhaustion which threatened to take him, he decided that for once, he wouldn’t care.

“Marth? After the heroic king of old?” Chrom gasped, his face lighting up like the forest around them, and suddenly the family resemblance to Lissa was clear as he launched into a volley of questions towards the ‘Marth’ before them; “You certainly fight like a hero. Where did you learn your way with a sword?” were the few Martin was able to pick up.

“I'm not here to talk about me.” Marth’s commanding voice interrupted. He took a deep breath, one which hinted to deep fear but also pride and anger. “This world teeters at the brink of a horrible calamity. What you saw tonight was but a prelude.” He paused, carefully returning his Falchion to its scabbard, he straightened his mask and returned to locking eyes with Chrom, “You have been warned.” The words were clearly for Chrom, the specific annunciation of ‘you’ shone through his prophecy.

But with that, Marth departed, disappearing into the dying flames of the forest, leaving the weary group alone.

“Huh? What's teetering where now?” Lissa muttered, apparently having not payed attention, again. Though this was only because she was so preoccupied imagining her future with the hero she imagined as the pinnacle of male beauty. Though to be fair, she wasn’t the only member gathered that found themselves attracted to the new man in blue. “Hey, wait!” she called fruitlessly. There was no response as the shadow faded.

“It appears his skills lie elsewhere. I wager we'll hear his name again...” Frederick predicted. Then, exhaling, he stated; “But for now I'm more concerned about the capital. We should make haste.”

*

As the group departed, a figure forced themselves against a thick tree, their body hidden beneath the night-time darkness and thick foliage. Only in such a position of stealth were they allowing themselves to exude such emotion as they were now. They were crying. Tears like rivers, as cliché as it sounds, were flowing down their dirty face as they sobbed, clutching the metal butterfly mask which they had just about been able to claw off their face seconds ago.

She fell to her knees and looked to the dark night sky as she screamed out to the heavens: “Mother! Father! I did it! I made it! I’m here, and I’ll save you – I’ll save everyone!” before returning to her loud crying.


	5. Ylisstol Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I kinda want to do a chapter a week thing with this story so that I have time to write it and other stories.

Ylisstol is the capital of Ylisse. Obviously. Though, is isn’t the largest. Its around the second or third largest, with some of the Plegian border cities taking that particular crown. Their size comes from their fortified nature as defensive border towns.

Ylisstol’s main gate was a massive stone structure manned by dozens of heavily armoured soldiers of a variety of experienced ages. The black iron portcullis that was raised above the open arch way of the walled capital’s front door did give an ominous feeling to Martin as the group entered the city, however the explosion of people, sound and colour that he experienced shortly after the armoured entryway soon made him forget his initial worries. Guards all around them nodded and bowed towards Chrom and Lissa and regarded Frederick with looks of respect.

“So this is Ylisstol, capital of Ylisse... I've never seen so many people!” Whistled Martin as they entered a market square, several minutes later. There was a thick oak tree with roots that burst from the small circle of dirt it should’ve been confined to. Instead the roots rose and sunk in and out of the ground wherever they pleased, making the square a nightmare to cross, though Chrom and the other Ylisstolians preformed the feat like it was a simplistic task. “I can’t believe how many people there are here!” he exclaimed after crossing the last root. Lissa, was still struggling to contain her giggling after watching him stumble about.

“Well, you’ll get used to it” Chrom explained, “Afterall, the Shepherds are in and out of Ylisstol frequently, though, that’s not to say we’re never resting.”

Chrom continued on and explained the nature of Ylisstol to Martin, not noticing that their new tactician wasn’t listening. Instead, his attention was divided. His eyes had gravitated towards a side street, emptier than the rest. Which was full of tall and impressive buildings. His very soul seemed to be drawn towards the street. Only a few moments later did Sully notice that they’d walked away from their stationary tactician.

“What’s wrong mate?” She asked, with a rough curiosity. Then suddenly, without warning, he sprinted straight into the alleyway. Though he looked dead on target, he showed no signs of being aware of those in front of him and he barged past several people in crashing directly into one or two, but they didn’t break his momentum as he continued his sprint.

Eventually, he came to a sliding stop outside the gate and small walls of a large looking house. It had banners and a small, well maintained, grass front. The gate was ornate and glittered in a variety of colours in the midmorning sun. Martin stood, slack jawed staring at the household. He both knew and didn’t know it. His heart felt like a puppet, wrapped sadly in its pathetic strings.

“Martin!” Chrom called as he arrived. While the sprinting robed man had caught the attention of many people, the chasing of Shepherds after him gave rise to much confusion. When the blue haired swords man caught up with his friend, he gripped the robed shoulder firmly, “What in the gods’ name has gotten into you?!” though after noticing the young man’s fixation on the house, he two turned his attention to the buildings. While Lissa attempted to distract Martin, in an attempt to break his trance on the house, Chrom turned to the blue armoured great knight at his side, “Frederick, what is this place, do you know?”

Frederick paused and rubbed his clean-shaven chin and a thoughtful manner. “Large house in the merchant’s district, rich/high quality fabric robes, capital interest… near Plegian accent, the banners here display Plegian standard colours but not symbols.” He muttered out loud. Then, finally; “Milord, my best guess? This might be his home” Frederick deducted.

“His home?” Lissa asked.

“Its only a guess, Lissa, I have no real way to be sure…”

“There’s one way…” Martin muttered. Then he proceeded through the ornate gateway and across the cobbles of the front grass patches before arriving at a tall black front door.

“Martin,” Chrom paused, “If… if nobody is home today, we’ll simply come back tomorrow, and the next day, and the next day – I promise you; we’ll solve this mystery!” Chrom swore, the seriousness glimmering in his eyes.

“Chrom…” Martin’s whole form lit up with joy, “thank you” was all he could say though, as the black door took his gaze once again. Gingerly, he reached out his left arm towards the door, his fist curled, ready to knock. Then, millimetres away from the polished wood, he retracted. Fear gripped him like frost. He couldn’t do it.

Then, the door opened on its own.

Behind the grand wooden door was a woman. She was young, likely early twenties. She had deep, dark brown hair that rested neatly on her head and split into two long twin ponytails which reached far down her sides. The rich and deep colours of her hair was broken by the odd streaks of white which flowed through her mane. She wore a simple black dress which was ended and bordered with white in specific places and decorated with black and white bows. The monochrome dress was rather revealing in its short but wide skirt nature and how it revealed the significant curvature of the woman’s chest. Her skin was quite tanned, but unnaturally so – as in her lighter complexion was marred by time in the sun. Her eyes were the shade of dirty amber, but their strange gold/yellow nature simply added to her beauty. Though now, in this specific and particular moment; a deep shock, sadness, and joy filled the golden orbs of her face.

“…Martin?” she asked gently, her voice wavering.

The Shepherds gasped; all eyes fell onto the pair.

“…Martin?” she asked again, her eyes tearing up. “You’re really here, this time?”

Martin was silent. He was stunned. Like the house, he felt like he knew her, but he also simply did not.

“I’m… I’m…” He managed, before the girl collapsed into a heap before him, sobbing and wailing.

“Thanks the gods!” she cried, “You’re finally safe, your finally home!” her blurry eyes then spotted Chrom and the other Shepherds, “Bless you, Lord Chrom, you brought him home haven’t you?!”

“…Listen, miss…?” he began

“Robin” she sobbed

“I’m afraid, Martin doesn’t… remember anything… except for his name…” Chrom managed, he could see the light leave the woman’s eyes with each word. “How… how long was he gone for?” he asked carefully.

“Two… two months, since yesterday” she cried, harder than before.

Frederick and Lissa rushed over and helped pick the girl up and return her to her feet. Practically all were silence though, two months, the words were heavy over their souls

“Robin… that name…” Martin muttered, looking shyly down at his filthy shoes. Then, after a brief pause, he looked towards the puffy and red eyes of the older crying girl. “How… how do I know you?” he asked, his own heart felt like it was going to burst.

“I’m your sister, your big sister!” she cried, flinging her arms around him.

“When we found him, he was unconscious in a field with only a shoddy sword and a spell book. Since then, he’s save our lives at least twice” Chrom explained.

“Three time.” Lissa interrupted.

“Twice, the incident with the bear doesn’t count – it was his fault” Chrom returned.

Martin exhaled, the information spinning in his mind was far too much to bear.

“You’re a maid in the castle, aren’t you?” Lissa asked Robin, taking note of her dress.

The girl sobbed a simple reply.

“We were heading up to the castle anyway, perhaps you should accompany us, we’ll let you two spend time together.” Chrom suggested, gesturing towards the siblings.

*

As the group walked the slow walk back to their original route, Chrom jogged lightly up to where Frederick led the ‘charge’.

“Observations?” he asked

“It appears the capital was spared the chaos we encountered, thank the gods. I see no evidence of the great quake. It must've been limited to the forest.” Frederick responded plainly.

“No, I meant about Robin and Martin.” Chrom corrected.

“…Originally, I didn’t hold much stock in Martin’s tale, however, this ‘Robin’ girl seems to genuine in her emotions to just be part of some elaborate game – so for now, I’ll buy it that they’re both speaking truthfully.” Frederick explain.

Chrom smiled, “Finally” before slowly falling backwards into the group.

Soon the voice of the villagers and towns folk filled the air.

“Look! The exalt has come to see us!” one shouted, matched by several others who repeated the message while others cheered and shouted.

Martin looked ahead and there, standing on a stone stage of some kind was a beautiful young woman, with long dirty blonde hair, immaculate ornate robes, beautiful jewellery, a crescent moon like crown headpiece which rested in the rear of her hair sticking upwards like an angel’s halo. Her hair was parted on her face, and this reveal the strange mark on her forehead. Like the tattoo/birthmark on Chrom’s left shoulder, the exalt had the same pattern on her face. Once the people had gathered, she exited her platform and began an unguarded march through the streets, blessing and speaking to the people as she went. Everyone was happy, from the youngest child to the eldest figure.

“The exalt is your ruler, yes?” Martin asked, curious of the proceedings.

“Yes. Her name is Lady Emmeryn.” Frederick informed him.

“Is it safe for her to walk among commoners like this?” Martin asked again, revealing the true nature of his question.

Frederick laughed, clearly please that someone had taken notice of the dangers of such a frequent actions. “The exalt is a symbol of peace—Ylisse's most prized quality. Long ago, at the dawn of our age, the fell dragon tried to destroy the world. But the first exalt joined forces with the divine dragon and laid the beast low. Exalt Emmeryn reminds us all of the peace we fought for then.” Once he’d finish explaining, Chrom offered his own piece:

“With Plegia poking at our borders, the people need her. She's a calming presence, when some might otherwise call for war.”

Robin shuffled uncomfortably upon the mention of Plegia, though only Martin noticed this, and only because she was clutching his arm so tightly – unwilling to let him go again.

“Then the Ylissean people are indeed lucky to have her.” Martin concluded as they entered the grand gates of the Ylissean capital’s castle. The gates themselves were less imposing than Ylisstol’s own, looking significantly more ornate, despite this, their defensive capabilities were clear.

“She's also the best big sister anyone could ask for!” Lissa laughed gleefully.

Once they’d arrived, servants arrived to collect their weapons and equipment, ready to do repairs or replacements if needs be. Upon the word of Frederick, they even took Martin’s sword – but not his tome, nor Chrom’s Falchion.

“Yes, I imagine she...” Then he paused. The Shepherds continued walking, as did his sister, reluctantly. “Wait, what? She's your... But wouldn't that make you and Chrom...” the information spun around his mind; Chrom, the poor mannered, casual, rough, out and about swordsman of the people… was royalty. If he had been drinking something, he likely would have spat it out upon reaching the logical conclusion.

“The prince and princess of the realm, yes. You remember Chrom's name and not this?” Frederick mused.

Martin stammered and flailed arms like a flightless bird following Frederick’s retort. “You said you were "shepherds"!”

“And so we are...in a manner of speaking. We just have a LOT of sheep.” Chrom laughed

“C-Chrom... I mean, Prince Chrom! Sire! Forgive my dreadful manners!” Martin stammered with embarrassment.

Chrom shuffled uncomfortably, “Just Chrom is fine. I've never been much for formalities.”

Martin quickly jogged to re-join the group, just in shock and awe of the many revelations today had brought.

“The prince and princess... That explains why Frederick tolerates all the teasing, eh?”

“Indeed. Oh, the sacrifices I make for the good of the realm...” Frederick joked

“It looks like Emm is returning to the palace. Would you like to meet her?” Chrom asked, turning to face his new tactician.

“… I can?”

“Only if you want to, overwise, I sure Sully can lead you to the Shepherds barracks”.

Martin decided to stay with Chrom and Lissa, and so along with Frederick and his sister. They continued down a tall and wide corridor and out into a small courtyard with a thick apple tree which Chrom gently placed a hand against before continuing along the path until they arrived in a large stairwell chamber where the exalt was, talking casually to two maids.

“My Lady, please forgive my lateness!” Asked Robin. Emmeryn turned and smiled gently towards the young maid, but upon noticing her red eyes rushed over to the girl.

“Are you all right? What happened?” she asked, deep care written into her voice.

“I’m fine, Lady Emmeryn, everything is fine now…” Robin explained. “I was crying earlier, but for a good reason” she turned and smiled towards her brother before bowing towards Emmeryn and rushed to join her fellow maids. With the interactions concluded, Emmeryn turned to her siblings.

“Chrom! Lissa! Welcome home. Oh, and good day, Frederick. How fared you all?” Her gentle voice asked, softly.

“Well—we shouldn't have any bandit problems for a while.” Chrom asked, pausing slightly, debating what should be discussed now.

“Wonderful. And our people?” Emmeryn asked.

“Safe as they can be, Emm. But we still need to watch the borders. The brigands crossed over from Plegia.” Chrom continued.

“Forgive me, milord. My Pegasus knights should have intercepted them.” A tall woman with white hair stepped forward apologetically.

“No, Phila. Your duty was here, with the exalt.” Chrom corrected.

“And besides, we had plenty of help!” Lissa cheered, pointing towards Martin, whom as his sister departed, tries to push himself to the rear of the group. Unlike Virion who was trying desperately to get Emmeryn to notice him.

“Ah, you speak of your new companion here?” Emmeryn noted, size up the tactician as a glance, the glimmer in her eye showing Martin that she had some tactical experience.

“This is Martin. He fought bravely with us against the brigands. I've decided to make him a Shepherd.” Chrom said, placing a hand firmly on Martin’s shoulder.

“It sounds as though Ylisse owes you a debt of gratitude, Martin.” Emmeryn said, bowing before the young mage.

“Not at all, milady!” Martin said, panicked by the suddenly display. But Emmeryn’s display didn’t just affect Martin. Frederick stepped forward quickly, prepared to put a stop to such preposterous actions.

“Forgive me, Your Grace, but I must speak.” Frederick began, “Martin claims to have lost his memory, but it is only that: a claim. We cannot rule out the possibility that he is a brigand himself or even a Plegian spy.” Frederick finished and awaited his exalt’s response.

Emmeryn straightened, her whole body becoming stiff, her face became cold stone – ice. Slowly she turned towards Chrom. “Yet you allowed him into the castle, Chrom. Does this man have your trust?”

“Yes. He risked his life, not just for me, but for our people. That's good enough for me” Chrom said, glaring daggers at Frederick.

“Well then, Martin... It seems you've earned Chrom's faith, and as such you have mine as well.” Emmeryn smiled warmly again, showing no signs of the previous seriousness. Her whole character changed in a snap, from serious ruler to polite and quiet friend. “But thank you, Frederick, for your prudence, as always.” She acknowledged towards the blue great knight, “Chrom and Lissa are blessed to have so tireless a guardian. I do hope they remember to mention that from time to time...”

Frederick allowed himself a small smile. “They occasionally express something akin to gratitude, Your Grace.” Then Frederick turned towards the white-haired Pegasus knight, “Phila, I assume you've heard about the deathly creatures we encountered, yes?

“Yes, milord. They've been sighted all across Ylisse.” She responded gravely.

All over Ylisse, Martin thought, that had to be a mistake, right? It had only been a day since the creatures arrived in the forest, they couldn’t have gotten very far – unless more than one sky gateway had opened across Ylisse.

Emmeryn acknowledged the three maids and bid them farewell to their duties. Then returning to her family, she invited; “Chrom, we are about to hold council. I was hoping you could join us.”

“Of course.” He responded and together with Philia and Frederick, they disappeared down a side corridor in the great stairwell.

“I think that's our cue, Martin! C'mon, there's a place I want to show you.” Lissa laughed and then grabbed his hand and dragged him down a different corridor.

Right now, it was all too much.


	6. Shepherds

The room was very spacious, though the immense clutter of boxes and weapons the flooded nearly all available space disproved such idea visually. The unorganised nature of such a collection didn’t do wonders for Martin’s confidence. Maybe if they were organised, they wouldn’t be caught off guard so often, he thought.

“Here we are! The Shepherds' garrison. Go on, make yourself at home.” Lissa joyfully sang as she ran off to one corner where another short blonde-haired girl was waiting. Martin could just about make out their conversation out of the other loud conversations that were going on all around him.

“Lissa, my treasure! Are you all right? I've been on pins and needles!” the other blonde girl said, her voice was rich and grating, and the snobbish nature of the tone was practically overflowing.

Martin glanced around the room at the several different gathered ‘characters’. Firstly there was Sully, Lissa, and Virion which Martin was already aware of, but there was an armoured knight in green who, like Sully, had hair that matched the metal. The other blonde girl wore rich, noble riding gear (which offered little protecting in a fight) and had hair which looked like it took hours to prepare and sat under a parasol (despite being indoors). Another was man which, Martin honestly swears, looks like he was naked, when in reality, was wearing segments and strips of leather tied of his body in a form of ‘armour’, he was heavily scarred and had spikey dirty blonde hair. Finally there was a tall woman who emanated beauty, she had a pale grey-brown hair which was pinned behind her in a long ponytail by two eagle feathers and wore clean and unused armour which wasn’t exactly fitted properly, this and the way she stood and wobbled; gave the impression that she (like Martin) was a new Shepherd.

The half-naked man sprinted a breakneck pace towards to the mini-blondes, and practically yelled; “Hey, squirt! Where's Chrom? I bet he had a rough time out there without ol' Teach and his trusty axe!”

“Oh, so you're "Teach" now, Vaike, is that it? Hee, hee! And here I thought people were just born lacking wits. It can be taught?” Lissa mocked.

“Ha! Never doubt the Vaike! ...Wait, was that an insult?” Realised ‘Teach’ who grumbled and growled in a threatening way but showed no signs of actually being a threat.

Then the newbie girl walked over to the gathering, she wobbled and moved careful, as if she call fall through the floor at any moment.

“Beg pardon, but when might we see the captain?” she asked in a gentle voice.

“Poor Sumia. She's simply been beside herself with concern... Her eyes were scanning the horizon all day during training. ...She might have earned fewer bruises fighting blindfolded.” The second blonde girl, named Maribelle, added.

“Aw, Sumia, that's so sweet of you to worry about Chrom.” Lissa added gleefully.

Sumia’s face disappeared within the torrent of red the stretched across her head. “Worry? Well, I... He's our captain and our prince—of course I'd worry!”

Then Martin noticed that Vaike was staring directly, and angrily towards him.

“So, who's the stranger?” he growled

“No one's stranger than you, Vaike... But allow me to introduce Martin! He just joined the Shepherds. Chrom's made him our new tactician. You should see all the tricks he's got up his sleeve!” Lissa corrected before singing Martin’s praise. All the attention was making Martin quite uncomfortable, however luckily ol’Teach was there to break the tension;

“Oh yeah? Can he do this? *buuuuuurp*” As Vaike stench filled the room, the other Shepherds decided to gather and meet the newcomer.

“I'm sure I have much to learn in the belching arts, "Teach." In any case, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintances.” Martin laughed.

Though his joke was apparently too much for the fine art of Maribelle’s heart and she stormed out of the barracks, declaring; “Ugh, Vaike! That was abhorrent! Must you baseborn oafs pollute even the air with your buffoonery? And you, Martin! Don't encourage him! I'd hoped you were cut from finer cloth. Hmph!”

Martin blinked in a confused manner as the ‘lady’ left the chamber.

“Don't take it to heart, Martin. Maribelle warms to people slowly.” Sumia attempted to comfort.

“Or burns too quickly! Hee, hee! But yeah, just give her time.” Lissa joked, derailing Sumia attempt.

*

Meanwhile, outside the Ylissean Royal Council Chambers, Frederick and Philia stood protectively outside the small wooden door that acted as its entrance.

“Philia, if you don’t mind my questioning…” Frederick began, “How much have you interacted with that maid girl, Robin?”

Philia gave him a strange look, “I haven’t ‘interacted’ with her much, but I know a significant deal about her – as my duty as our Lady’s main knight demands.” She explained. “Why?”

“Well, I want to know how much of her story matches up with Martin’s, and where they come from.”

“In that case, yes, she is Plegian. But only half Plegian, her mother is Ylissean – I don’t know of what status – but her father was a Plegian noble. Following the growing tensions between Plegia and Ylisse, for their protection their mother took them out of Plegia to a border town, one of the ones which is practically on the border, where the tension is less, and people are more open to either side” Philia explained.

“So they could cross the border to see family freely?” he guessed.

“Yes, but eventually they moved to Ylisstol and sometime later the mother died. Our Lady witnessed her death and seeing as the family had no source of income now, Lady Emmeryn gave her a job in the castle as a chambermaid.”

“And of her brother?” Frederick inquired.

“I’ve overheard her mention a younger brother, mainly to milady. And I remember two months ago, she didn’t come into work for a week. This made Emmeryn worried, so she went to visit their home where she learnt that he little brother had gone missing… in the night… and it looked like there had been a struggle” she finish solemnly.

“She did say Martin was missing for two months…” Frederick mused.

Then, the chamber door opened and Chrom with his sister Emmeryn exited.

“Come on, Frederick, let’s go rally the troops!”


	7. Risen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided to have some fun with Emmeryn's character and some character interactions.

“Ah! Captain! You've returned! I was— I mean, we were so—” Sumia began, but as she rushed forward towards the blue haired prince, she tripped over her metal boots, stumbled, then fell face first into the floor, face planting heavily into the cold stones of the Shepherd’s barracks. Then, she pulled herself off the group, heavily reddened and laughing nervously.

“Sumia! Are you all right? ...Those boots of yours again?” Chrom panicked, then realised the source of the issue.

“No! I mean, yes! I mean... *sigh*” Sumia said, the heat on her face rising even more.

“Gather round everyone, milord has our orders!” Frederick called and so gathered the entire Shepherd force.

“All right, listen, everyone: in the morning, we'll be marching to Regna Ferox.”

“Regna Ferox?” Martin asked.

“A unified kingdom to Ylisse's north. Inhabited by barbarians, or so it's said.” Sumia warned.

“Warriors are what they are” Chrom corrected, “and we'll need their strength to quell this new menace. Typically, the exalt would request such aid in person. But given recent events... Well, the people might worry should my sister suddenly leave the capital. So the task has been passed to us. Now, this mission is strictly voluntary. So if, for any—"

“I volunteer!” Lissa immediately yelled, this actually surprised Chrom who jumped slightly, causing small chuckles to be exchanged within the group.

“Me too! You'll be needin' ol' Teach along for such a delicate mission!” Vaike similarly yelled, though by this point, it proved to be his default volume

“I'll go as well.” Said the suit of armour to his right. Wait. Martin turned to see that the suit of armour wasn’t just a metal suit, but a man in the suit. Somehow, the man had been standing so still that he faded from existence.

“How long have you been there?” Martin asked.

“...What? I've been here the whole time!” replied the knight defensively.

“I... I, um...” squeaked the sky Sumia, her face still red, though now probably because of the face-to-floor impact.

“Yes, Sumia?” Chrom asked, looking up and smiling.

“It's just that... I'm not sure I'm quite ready for a proper mission just yet. I'd probably just get in the way.” Sighed Sumia.

Chrom looked disappointed, but this didn’t stop him; “Well, you could stay behind the main group, and if a battle is met, just watch and learn? Your choice, of course. But some lessons can only be learned on the battlefield.”

“W-well, if you think it wise, Captain.” Her entire form perked up and a big grin grew across her face.

Chrom blushed slightly, “Just stay by me and you'll be fine.”

Sumia began blushing again, “Oh, yes! I mean— Yes, sir, I'll do that!”

Martin quietly chuckled, “Nice”

*

The group separated following training and the evening meal to their particular sleeping quarters. Vaike had a hammock in the training yards. Sully and the green knight, Stahl, slept near the stables. Lissa had a room in the castle near her sister’s and Chrom’s, and Frederick’s wasn’t far away. Martin didn’t have a specific place to stay, and still feeling unsure about the house he’d presumably been raised in, he decided to enquire with Chrom about living accommodations.

“Chrom!” Martin called as he spotted the blue haired swords waltzing down a tall corridor with his elder sister Emmeryn.

“Greetings Martin” Emmeryn responded kindly

“Hey Martin, what’s wrong?” Chrom asked, noting the slight shyness in Martin’s footing.

“Well… I was wondering… where– “He was cut off

“You wanted to know where your room might be, now you’re a member of the Shepherds, right?” Emmeryn finished. “I’m sure Chrom can find you one.”

“Sure, we’ve got loads of spares. But why aren’t you going home?”

“It… it doesn’t exactly feel like a home to me…”

“Well, I imagine that to be expected. With no memories of anything except you, Chrom, obviously he wouldn’t want to be anywhere other than with you.

“Ye-yeah!” Martin shyly responded, a slight blush appearing across his face.

Emmeryn noticed and gave a small, and cute giggle. “Chrom, please go and find Martin some suitable accommodations, I want to have a quick chat with him.” Emmeryn softly commanded.

Chrom gave his elder sister a puzzled look, but swiftly obliged and waltzed back down the corridor towards the Shepherd’s barracks. Once he was out of earshot, Emmeryn turned her attention to the new tactician.

“Walk with me?” She asked.

Martin simply nodded, confused by the current development.

The two walked in silence until they reached a grand pale pink wooden door. Emmeryn gently pushed it open and passed though, Martin hastily followed her through, immediately wishing he hadn’t. It was her bedroom.

It was sparser than one would imagine. A small bland coffee table with three bland chairs before a slightly ornate fireplace. Two paintings of Emmeryn and her siblings hung around the fireplace, one depicting a man and woman with presumably the young royal siblings hung on the fireplace. The paintings were held in plain wooden frames.

Emmeryn noted his interest in the middle painting. “It’s our parents. My father was always a cold and serious man. But sometimes the situation called for that nature. He only ever softened around young Lissa. This is why she’s so carefree – she’s only known freedom.” Emmeryn paused,

“Did… did he ever…?” Martin struggled to ask.

“Not often, no, especially not while mother was alive, beatings just weren’t his thing.”

“And your mother?” Martin asked, careful not to push into dangerous territory and made an enemy out of the Exalt.

“She was a kind woman. Hard towards our father, this helped him remember his softness sometimes. She was a light upon dark times in Ylisse – a light I’ve tried to emanate…”

“Well… I think you’re doing a good job. I mean, I know I’ve been here for a day, but in that day, I’ve seen how the people admire and adore you – they’ll freely live and die for you without complaint.”

Emmeryn hadn’t been facing him since she began talking, now she slowly turned to face him, small tears brimming in her eyes. “Thank you, Martin”.

A few minutes passed as she dried her eyes and calmed herself down. Then, once the calm mood had returned, she asked;

“Would you help me out of this, I usually get Chrom’s help but he’s obviously not here.”

“My Lady?!” Martin gasped, the crimson blush returning but in a massively deeper shade.

She laughed warmly, “Don’t worry, just the initial garments, the ceremonial ones. I can handle everything else down to my small clothes.”

Gingerly, he gripped the long green over cloak she wore, and she undid the buttons around her throat. He lightly pulled the cape off and then handed it to her. Then she removed the halo like crown she wore, allowing her long hair to fall to its full length, freely. Hair even fell over the mark on her forehead.

Then she moved behind a tall dividing screen and Martin could here rustling and the slight grunts as she struggled to undo tighter clothes. Then after a few moments of layers of clothing hitting the top of the divider. Martin decided to look anywhere else than the opposite direction. The rest of the room continued the trend of simplicity right down to her bed covers which were a plain white. There were two small cabinets next to the large bed at the far end of the room. Even the divider she undressed behind was simple, right down to its stitching. This confused Martin, as a woman so regal and in such an important position would surely have nicer decorations. As he stopped looking at the simple step ladder which allowed people to climb the ordinary tall bookcase, he returned his attention to the divider and watched as the Exalt’s small clothes landed on the top of the divider. Martin flushed bright red as he saw her beginning to move out from behind the divider. When she immerged from behind the divider, she wore a simple nightie which was far too revealing for the overheating mage.

Emmeryn gave a short and cute giggle upon seeing his reaction. “My apologies, I haven’t had a new guest in my chambers in a long time and I couldn’t resist.”

“What… what was it you wanted to discuss, Lady Emmeryn?” Martin asked, trying to stay focused on her eyes and not anywhere else on her extremely exposed body.

“I wanted to thank you personally for protecting my family… they’re really all I have left, and every time Chrom and Lissa go out on an adventure; I worry it’ll be their last. I know Frederick was there to protect them, but just having someone as skilled as you there when the incident with those creatures happened, makes my heart feel ten times lighter.” She explained. “So, if there is anything in my power to give you in return, I will do it.” She promised.

There was silence as Martin gazed at her in silent shock of her bold statement. “Well…” he muttered eventually, noticing the white porcelain and gold bath that rested next to a small door which lead to large balcony. This bath was clearly the most ornate and interesting thing in her room. “If you wouldn’t mind… I would like… a…. a bath?” his face was practically hidden beneath the heavy layer of crimson that had formed over his embarrassed form.

Emmeryn blinked. Actually taken aback by his request. Then, straightening herself; “Of course, I’ll make sure you have the best bath in the castle” She smiled warmly at his odd request.

*

Martin leaned back beneath the warm water and thick soapy bubbles of the gigantic bathtub which had been place in his large library like chamber of a room. Books lined the walls on shelves and in cases, they could be found on tables and in loose piles. History books, novels, song books, magic tombs, language textbooks, erotic novels, encyclopaedias, any type of book could be found then. The bed was a large double bed with red sheets and curtains.

“Gods bless this realm” He sighed, as the water flowed over his sore form. He hadn’t realised how much silent pain he had been in all day until he’d hit the water. “This water is so niiiiiiiice” he relaxed. Alone with his thoughts, he recounted the day’s events – trying to straighten them out in his head so he could understand what had exactly happened in such a long and confusing day.

Then, his thoughts drifted to Chrom. He couldn’t help but laugh at the idea of Chrom being a prince. The man was so un-princely, he could even try to appear more like a common mercenary. But, then again, he was a kind and noble man – which are all traits he associated with princes. Perhaps a better description of Chrom would be to describe him as a Warrior-Prince, much like the Marth of legend is regarded as the Hero-King. Marth. His thoughts drifted to the stranger they’d met in the woods. He couldn’t help but admit he was attracted to the mysteriousness. “Maybe I should make a notebook or something, write this stuff down so I can get my head around any of it.” He muttered before decided to enjoy the nice warm bath, after all, he had no idea when he’d next get one.

*

“Is everyone ready? We've a long march ahead.” Chrom called, his horse slowly trotting over to the assembled Shepherds (and Virion). Chrom wasn’t alone on his horse. Sumia was with him. Martin couldn’t help but smile at the sight, they were cute together – though that’s not to say that he wasn’t a little bit jealous.

“Martin!” a female voice called, he turned from the saddle bag he was filling to see a tall brunette running towards him. The girl grabbed him and locked him in a tight hug. “You didn’t tell me you were leaving!” she yelled after breaking off the hug. Robin was no longer dressed in a maid’s outfit. Now she wore a simple tunic which was tucked into belted traveling pants.

“To be fair, I didn’t know till late yesterday, and I have no idea where you went.” He explained, embarrassed that all the Shepherds were looking at him

“Oh…” she shrunk backwards slightly, realising he was making sense.

Noticing his, Martin placed a hand gently on the shoulder of the shorter girl (she’s tall, but he’s taller), “Hey, don’t worry Robin, I’m coming back this time. Chrom’ll make sure of it!” he promised, and his words filled his sister with glee.

After one last hug, she returned to the inside of the castle, leaving martin with his current predicament: getting on the horse. He’d never rode a horse before – or at least to his limited memory: never.

He pulled himself up, only to slide down again. Then he tried again, then again, then again. He tried for fifteen minutes, but the horse simply would move as he struggled on to her or as he approached her, never letting him on. Eventually, tired of watching her friend struggle. Lissa came to his rescue.

“I’ve only got small saddle bags, so I’m sure yours will fit, if you want to ride with me…?”

Martin gave a defeated sigh, “Yes…”

She climbed off her stallion with ease and helped him on. Then returned to her original position.

“Hold onto my waist for stability!” she joked pointing at Sumia who was gently holding Chrom’s waist.

“I am not doing that!” argued Martin, causing Lissa to burst out into fits of laughter.

“W-wait for me!” a voice called loudly. Suddenly a knight in green armour sprinted into the wide courtyard of the stables, saddle bag in hand.

“Stahl?” Chrom asked with shock, swing around with so much force that he almost threw Sumia off the horse.

“Why am I the last to hear about this expedition to Ferox?” Whined the green knight.

“Huh? Vaike was supposed to... Vaike! Did you forget to tell Stahl about our mission?” Lissa realised and turned towards the barely clothed brute, who was on the back of a saddleless and equally brutish looking horse.

“The Vaike never forgets! ...I just don't always remember, is all...” Vaike argued obstinately

“Ugh... I swear, you'd forget your own name if you weren't constantly saying it yourself! Speaking of which, are you SURE you remembered your axe this time?” Lissa groaned

“Hey! That was one time! ...Okay, twice, but training sessions don't count. Anyway, I got it right here. Teach is loaded and ready for action! Glad to have you along, Stahl, ol' buddy.” He barked enthusiastically.

The rest of the Shepherds sighed. But soon they were off. The Shepherds rode out of Ylisstol’s west gate and began along the long road towards Regna Ferox

“That makes one of us. I was in such a hurry, I had to miss breakfast! There were muffins, and cakes, and... Well, I can tell you all about it while we march...” Stahl continued as they rode away from Ylisstol.

Lissa was steering the horse near Stahl’s so Martin decide he should probably greet the late comer.

“Your name is Stahl, right?” he asked the green knight.

“Oh, I'm sorry, Martin.” Chrom said, pulling his horse back upon hearing the introduction, “This is Stahl, one of our finest.”

“Hello, Robin. Miriel told me we had a new Shepherd.” He began, but upon seeing the confused look on the tactician’s face, he explained: “Er, Miriel's one of our mages. She should catch up soon.”

*

Hours later. Frederick stopped the group. They decided they should rest the horses, and seeing as they would no longer be heading straight, they should stop and allow everyone to catch up. But it was Chrom who spotted the danger. Blocking a bridge over a wide river they would need to cross were the same monsters from the forest, about five or six of them, but more in the distance.

“Gods, have the Risen spread this far?” Chrom swore upon seeing the monsters shamble aimlessly in the area.

“’Risen’?” Martin asked with a raised eyebrow.

“We needed a name for this new threat, so the council gave them one.” Frederick explained.

Then, hearing their loud voices. The risen turned towards them, groaning and gesticulating loudly.

“Everyone, remember what we're up against!” Chrom ordered as soldiers drew their weapons and mounted units mounted their steeds.

“Mya ha! They'll remember ME once I drive my axe into their” Vaike boasted, “... Wait... My axe. Where's my axe?! I had it a second ago!” He panicked.

Chrom turned towards the brute, fire and brimstone in his eyes and venom dripping from his words: “Vaike, this is no time for jokes...”

“I'm serious! It's gone, but I JUST had it! It's got to be around here somewhere...” Vaike cried.

The risen had arrived.


	8. Panther and Bull

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mainly just one of several chapters for support dialogue

The risen chief groaned as Frederick charged towards it, Lissa resting on the rear of his horse. The monster swiped with his weapon, loosely catching Frederick’s horse, sending the two flying. Responding quickly, Frederick jammed his spear into the ground with one hand and with the other armoured gauntlet, reached out and grabbed Lissa’s dress. The two landed heavily in a heap and their combined weight snapped the blade of the spear, rendering it useless. Frederick reached for the axe he had as another weapon and turned his attention to Lissa. There was blood coming from her head as she hit the ground on a particularly sharp stone. The risen chief charged towards the seemingly unaware Frederick.

“Mademoiselle!” Virion called the Sully, who was repeatedly jamming her spear through the skull of a risen soldier. “I require your assistance for a particularly difficult shot!”

“Greenie!” She called towards the sword wielding green cavalier.

Together, their two horses formed a barrier before Virion who stuck the front of his bow out between the heads of the two horses, their riders gripping their weapons tightly in case any risen get some smart ideas. As he readied his shot. He watched as a risen wearing a particularly difficult amount of armour with a sword chased the still unarmed Vaike, whom had attempted to take it out unarmed.

“Oui, the perfect shot!” Virion laughed and then fired. The single arrow flew between the two horse’s heads and lightly skimmed past Vaike’s head, implanting itself into the risen’s skull. It slumped to the ground and dissolved.

“Nice job, Ruffles!” Sully congratulated, flexing slightly.

“I live for the compliments!” Virion said, not so humbly. “Especially of such exquisite beauties such as…” he trailed off, noticing Sully and Stahl had already disappeared together. “Damn.”

As Vaike ran, he collided face first with a woman. She had short red hair, cut into a bob, with a tall witch’s had perched on top. She wore clean robes over clean and purpose-built traveling gear and had spell tomes to spare underneath her mage robes. But most peculiarly, she held and axe – one that was rather filthy, especially compared to the rest of her outfit.

“Whoa! My axe!” Cried Vaike, spotting it.

“I wondered what manner of ignoramus would mislay their weapon. Now I know.” Insulted the woman, glaring down her nose from beneath her large glasses.

“Thanks, Miriel! ...Er, for the axe, anyway.” Vaike sheepishly thanked, before sprinting back towards the battle, looking for any remaining enemies to kill.

“Perhaps next time I'll use a spell to fasten it to your hands...permanently.” Groaned the witch.

Frederick, meanwhile, had repositioned Lissa into a more comfortable position, clearing several small stones out of the way to do so, and as she began to open her eyes, the risen chief entered Frederick’s shadow. Having known the beast was coming, Frederick was ready. The hand the was gripping the axe swung at lightning speeds and slid right through muscle and bone in the creature’s throat, removing head from body and dissolving the monster instantly.

“Lady Lissa… are you alright, that wound might need to be treated to!” Frederick pressed, acting like the swift destruction of the risen hadn’t happened.

“Yeah… no…. yeah?” Lissa managed in complete shock.

A small smile grew on the wary blue knight’s face.

*

It was a warm night. Most were in the Ylissean summers. There was singing in the camp. Apparently Miriel was an expert at vocal magic as well as destructive. Separate from the camp though. Stahl and Sully fought in a simple sparing match. Though it wasn’t **a** simple match, but one of many, that had been going on for several hours. So far, Sully had won everyone – though, that’s how most, if not all, of their sparing sessions went.

Stahl wore his under-clothes which he wore under his plate armour for comfort, while Sully was slyly dressed in her small clothes, which, while doing wonders for the imagination, further backed up the Amazonian analogy commonly used to describe her physique.

Stahl was knocked on his ass for the fifteenth time that night and decided that was all.

“Thanks for training with me today. That was a great session.” Stahl said, trying to hide his hurt pride.

“Ha! Giving up so soon? What a wimp!” Sully mocked.

“Er, what?” Stahl said, slowly turning towards the aggressive red knight.

“How can you call yourself a knight if you crap out so soon? The legendary knights who served Marth would never give up so easily.” Sully continued.

“You mean Cain and Abel? The "Bull" and the "Panther" from the old stories?” Corrected Stahl, with a hint of mockery of his own.

“That's the kind of strength we need to beat this threat. And it's the kind of strength I aspire to.” Sully announced with pride.

“Well, sure. I mean, who wouldn't want to be a hero of legend and song? I just don't think I have it in me. I'm more of a... mellow type.” Stahl informed her, again.

“Ha! Then take that attitude over to the kitchen, ya damn scullery maid. I plan to run circles around those rusty old legends.”

“Heh! You're something else. But perhaps I could stand to be a little more forceful in my training.” Stahl said, giving up to her infectious attitude.

“Damn right! I won't stop until I'm built like the Bull!”

“Ha, ha! I'm sure you'll... Wait, you're the Bull in this scenario?” Stahl raised an eyebrow.

“You got a problem with that?” Sully said, closing the distance between them, her large build towering over the green knight.

“No, no! No, that's...just fine. I guess that makes me the Panther, huh? Yeesh. I've got my work cut out for me...” Sighed the green knight, rounding on the red knight, a new training sword in hand (Sully had accidentally shattered the last one).

Sully smirked, ‘works every time’.

It was only around half an hour before Stahl had hit the ground again.

“...Enough! I yield!” Stahl cried, after hearing the heavy stomps of Sully running towards him.

“Oh, come on. You're better than this! Now you're just letting me win.” Wined the crimson Amazonian.

“No one LETS you win anything, Sully. You take victories by force.” Objected Stahl siting down in the dirt, thoroughly exhausted.

“Pfft. That's your excuse?” Mocked the red knight, pushing her luck at getting him back up.

Stahl sighed and looked down. “Hey, you know what I'm like.”

“You lack confidence because you don't know yourself well enough.” Sully sighed, planting herself down in the dirt next to him – not caring if she got her small clothes ruined. “Here, shake my hand. ...Go on! Shake the damn thing!” She outstretched a muscular arm.

“Er, all right.” Said the nervous Stahl, clasping his hand around hers.

“Well? What do you feel? Tell me how my hand and yours are different.”

“Well, yours is smaller than I would have thought. ...And really soft! It's kind of nice, actually.” He complimented.

However, this made Sully uncomfortable, who quickly moved from the subject, declaring: “You're getting distracted. Focus on the first thing you said. You're smaller than me, quicker and harder to get a hold of, and you've got less muscle, lighter. Also, you're a better rider. So explain how it is that I keep kicking your arse all over the battlefield.”

Stahl let off an angry groan. “I don't know! I guess you just project this...aura. Like you're going to eat me for breakfast, you know?”

Sully shook her head and rose to her feet. “All in your head! Change your attitude, and you'll be a better fighter overnight.”

“You really think so? Hmm... Wait! Now you're just pushing me around in a different way.” Stahl argued.

“Except that I'm right. And if you're smart, you'll listen to me. So what do you say? Another round?” Laughed Sully, once again extending her arm.

“You're on. And I'm standing my ground this time!” He declared, grasping her larger arm in his.

Elsewhere in the camp, the mood was lighter as people exchanged stories of the previous day’s fight. Martin simply sat back and drank in the atmosphere. Though the Shepherds had let him sit with them, he still felt like an outsider while they compared previous feats and battles. Martin eventually found himself drowning out the sounds and music and stared deeply into the fire pit they were gathered around.

Chrom noticed this and moved over to sit on the same log with the new Shepherd.

“You alright?” He asked gently.

This snapped Martin out of his distraction, and he responded: “Nope, perfectly Chrom fine” in a daze.

Chrom responded with a small chuckle. “Alright…” then he began to move back to where he and Frederick had been sat, until, Martin lightly tapped his arm.

“Can I ask you something, Chrom?”

“Uh-oh. Should I be nervous?” Chrom said, noticing the seriousness in his face.

“When you found me collapsed and without memory, why did you take me in?”

Chrom paused, not only because he was taken aback by the question, but also because he simply didn’t know – was it because he felt like he had to? Or perhaps another reason?

“Well... Because you were collapsed and without memory?”

“That's it? Pity was your reason?” Martin responded, with a slight trace disappointment in his words.

“Isn't that enough?” Chrom responded, sounding slightly hurt.

“Did you never stop to consider if it was some kind of trap?” Argued the brunette.

“Heh, that's what I have Frederick for.” Offered the bluenette, pointing towards his guardian.

“But why didn't—” Martin tried to argue, but the look from Chrom silenced him.

“Martin, if I see someone hurt or in need, I'm going to help them. That's just who I am, and there's no changing it. Or would you rather I'd left you there, face down in the muck?”

“No, of course not. I'm thankful for what you did, I truly am. But it scares me all the same. Chivalry and longevity don't often go hand in hand.” Proposed the tactician.

“Ha! I wish I had a gold coin for every time I got this lecture.” Chrom laughed, shooting a slight glare towards Frederick who caught it and simply returned it.

“I can only offer advice, I'm afraid. You really should be more careful in the future.” Concerned, Martin suggested.

“I'm sorry, but no. If it happened again today, I'd do the same exact thing...” Chrom explained, sounding slightly depressed.

“But—” Anger slightly growing within the amnesiac as he tried to speak, but he was once again interrupted by Chrom.

“Peace, Robin. I have heard your counsel, and I know you mean well. But as I said, this is who I am. I can't change that, nor would I want to.”

“I... I understand. If that is your decision, then so be it. Just do try and be careful, Chrom. For my peace of mind, if not your own?”

“I will. I promise.” Chrom said, genuinely.

Meanwhile, Sully and Stahl continued their sparing match. Despite every offensive strike, Sully had been unable to move the green warrior. Stahl had revaluated his position and was now adjusting his footing as well as his blade’s position when countering his crimson equal. Then she tried for a low blow with her blade as a distraction, while her real attack came as a fist from above. This time, however, Stahl was ready; swiftly he repositioned his feet and sent one heavy kick into Sully’s exposed midsection, sending her heavily to the ground, then he planted his foot heavily on her chest and pointed his training blade at her head.

“Oof! ...Yeah, I'll feel that one tomorrow.” Sully begrudgingly admitted.

“Heh, heh! Stahl the Panther strikes again! Still, I think I finally understand what you were getting at. The right attitude really does make a difference.” He laughed, removing his foot from her chest and offering her his free hand.

“Well, don't think you'll ever be better than me. Because you won't.”

“Ha! I wouldn't dare suggest it.”

“But you know the others expect you to show me up someday.” Sully admitted as she took his hand.

“...Huh?” Stahl said, in complete shock.

Sully, now realising she’d said too much, backed away from her green haired ally. “It's okay. I'm used to it.” She said defensively, though the way she held her body while saying it showed to Stahl that something was off.

“...Er, Sully? Is everything all right? You're getting weird on me.” Offered a concerned, but oblivious Stahl.

“It's just... People look at me and all they see is a damn woman!” She yelled, eventually. Though she tried to hide them, her hurt pride had allowed them to form – even slightly. Tears.

“Um, okay? Not sure where this is coming from, but if I implied—” Stahl apologised, not noticing his friend’s emotional situation.

“Not you, idiot.” Sully said, slightly panicked – thinking she’d offended him. “You treat me as an equal, and I've always respected that. I just worry that...” As much as she tried, she couldn’t stop the tears, they were coming now. Lightly, they flowed down her dirty face. “Well, what happens if you do surpass me someday? People won't think it's because of hard work or skill or any of that. It'll just be another damn man beating a woman to the finish line again.”

Stahl gave an audible groan and glared at her, in a mockingly way. Hoping that his plan would fix the heartbreakingly sour mood their training had become. “Now who's being wishy-washy?”

“Hey! Don't you lecture me, chump! I'll kick you right in the—” She barked, the tears flowing more violently.

“Ha, ha! Now that's the Sully I know. A mighty Bull in the making! ...Or is it a mewling Sheep? We'd better go another around and find out.” He continued his mocking, a small grin growing across his face.

But, it had worked; a small, but angry smile grew across her own dirty face; “Oh, I am so going to hand you your lunch in a second. Come on, tough guy! Show me what you're really made of!”

“Eep! M-maybe this was a bad idea...” Stahl gasped and sprinted out of their crudely constructed training arena with Sully chasing him.


	9. Two Falchions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I put a lot of effort into this fight scene, probably the second most I've ever put into a fight chapter in any story.  
> Also yes, we did miss The Longfort, this was deliberate because I felt no need to put this mission into the story.

The group were eager to exit out of the freezing cold of Regna Ferox, ten days later. After crossing the border wall, they were lead for miles by dozens of armed soldiers. Until they arrived in one of the Feroxi Khan’s fortresses.

Raimi, a soldier who had met them at the border, and then attempted to kill them, lead them into the main chamber of the fortress.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t much warmer inside then out – and this was a fact Lissa wasn’t going to let them forget.

“Prince Chrom, please wait here while I summon the khan.” Raimi said with extreme formality.

“Of course.” Chrom nodded and the soldier left with her many fellow soldiers, leaving the Shepherds alone.

“The khan is away?” Martin asked, moving away from the wining Lissa towards Chrom, who was bouncing on his feet nervously.

“Out training, I'd wager. The khans of Ferox prefer battle to politics. Or rather, battle IS their politics.” Chrom explained, turning away from the doorway.

“A warrior ruler, eh? I can picture him now…” Martin said, closing his eyes “A giant of a man of unparalleled thew, his broad chest covered in hair, heheh...”

“Am I now? ...Please, do go on!” A gruff female voice laughed.

“Huh?” Martin blinked

Both Martin and Chrom turned to look towards a bland doorway at the other end of the room where a woman stood, arms crossed with a bemused grin on her dark-skinned face. She had long and extremely unkempt hair which was pushed back into a tight but messy bun at the rear of her head. She wore red and white plate male which was both covering enough and revealing enough to show off her muscular.

“You're the—?! Er, that is to say... The khan, I presume?” Chrom said, trying to readjust his statement as so not to insult perhaps their only ally.

“One of them, yes—the East-Khan. My name is Flavia. I apologize for the troubles at the border, Prince Chrom. You are welcome in Regna Ferox.” She apologised, ignoring his and Martin’s previous statements.

“Thank you, but I'm confident we can put that misunderstanding behind us. Is it true bandits posing as Ylisseans have been ransacking your border villages?” Chrom asked, returning to formality.

“Yes. Those Plegian dogs! We found documents proving as much on the corpse of one of their captains. Plegia must see some benefit in raising tensions between your kingdom and ours.”

“Damn them! I... Forgive me, Your Grace. That was...indelicately put.” Chrom stopped.

“Ha! Damn them and damn delicacy! Here in Ferox, we appreciate plain speech.” She laughed boldly.

“In that case, you should have a word with your damn border guards...” Chrom said, joining in on the ‘fun’ of Ferox.

“...Ha, ha! Now that's Feroxi diplomacy! Yes, I like you already.” She smiled warmly. “I know why you have come, Prince. But regrettably, I cannot provide any Feroxi troops for Ylisse.”

“What?! Why not?!” shivered Lissa.

“I lack the authority.” Growled Flavia.

“Forgive me, but I don't understand. Aren't you the khan?” Chrom asked, thoroughly confused.

“As I said, I am ONE of the khans. In Ferox, the khans of east and west hold a tournament every few years. The victor acquires total sovereignty over both kingdoms. And that means they have the final say when it comes to forging alliances. The West-Khan won the last tournament, you see, and so...” Explained Flavia.

“So we are to receive no aid at all?” Asked a deflated Chrom.

“Not if you always give up so easily! The next tournament is nigh, you see, and I am in need of champions.” Began Flavia. “The captain of my border guard informs me your Shepherds are quite capable. Perhaps you would consider representing the East in the upcoming tournament? If you win and I become ruling khan, I will grant your alliance.”

“I would have assumed Ylisseans had no place in such Feroxi traditions.” Chrom suggested.

“Ha! On the contrary. The khans themselves do not fight—they choose champions to represent them. Otherwise our land would be rife with blood feuds and dead khans! We don't involve comrades or kin for the same reason. Over time, it was decided the tournament should be fought by outsiders. Although the outsiders have never included foreign royalty. ...That I know of! Ha! Regardless, it is your choice to make.”

“There is no choice, East-Khan. My people are desperate. We face not only Plegia's constant attacks, but now the added threat of the Risen. If fighting for you is the quickest way to an alliance, then we will take up our steel.” Declared a confident Chrom.

“Ha, ha! Oh, I like you, Prince Chrom. I do hope you survive the tournament! Come, I'll show you the arena where the tournament is held. But be wary! I hear an equally able swordsman champions the West-Khan.”

“He shall be defeated by Ylisse’s necessity.” Chrom muttered.

“Well-spoken again—I look forward to seeing if you're equally skilled with a blade!”

Two hours later and they were at the Feroxi arena. A massive, warm circular giant of a building with a painted and tiled floor which the warrior who reflected the Khan’s would battle on.

The rules of the tournament were as followed:

  * Maximum of six warriors per Khan, no more, no substitutions.
  * Killing is allowed, but only if the enemy refuses to give up.
  * Dismemberment is disallowed, removing someone’s limb will result in your immediate removal for the tournament and the loss of the same limb on yourself.



The cheering and heat was intense as the group lined up for their turn in the match; the final was between east and west-Khan.

Chrom, Lissa, Martin, Frederick, Sully, and Vaike were the chosen Shepherds. Chrom, obviously. Lissa, as the only healer in the group would be invaluable. Frederick because he refused to let Lissa fight on her own. Vaike, because of his brute physical strength. Martin, against Chrom’s best wishes decided that he was only able to modify strategy and convey it to them if he was with them, and his magic would be quite helpful.

Finally, the twin dragon cannons and gongs rang out, signalling that east-khan’s battle with west-khan had arrived. Most of the west-khan’s fighters were generic mercenaries, however one of their fighters was apparently a monster of a warrior, they had essentially singlehandedly dragged the west-khan’s fighters through the tournament – or so they’d heard.

The team of six wandered out onto the arena floor to the sounds of thunderous applause from hundreds of Feroxi. On the other side of the arena, Lissa spotted him. Still dressed in the rich blue armour and butterfly like mask. Marth.

“Chrom! Look!” She gasped, pointing towards their enemy.

“I see him...” Murmured Chrom, though his focus wasn’t on the warrior himself, but the blade he carried.

Marth remained silent.

“Marth! One question, before we begin?” Chrom called.

Silence.

“...Fine, then. Our swords can speak for us!” Chrom yelled, drawing his falchion; the divine blade flashing white as it was pulled from its scabbard.

Chrom held his blade in his right hand, before passing it to his left from behind, and finally angling it towards his opponent, he held the blade in both gloved hands. Within the shadows Marth lurked, he did the same movement. The two warriors remained an equal distance from each other and they moved in a circular motion for some time. Everyone assembled were in a unified silence.

“Where did you get that?” Chrom pressed the silent warrior. There was anger beginning to rise in the young prince. The falchion was a blade deeply connected Chrom’s blood and history, being the blade his ancestor: the original Marth, used to defeat the shadow dragon. The hilt and guard of the blade had failed and been changed over the years, but the blade of the weapon had remained intact for thousands of years. “There's no way...” he muttered, his eyes scanning ever scuff and mark of the blade, every edge and curve. Identical.

He surged forward and leapt into the air, griping the blade in his unarmoured left arm. And letting out a loud battle cry, he spun downward like a spiked boulder into Marth, who brought their blade before them defensively, instinctively, as though they knew the move – like they’d seen it hundreds of times; though Chrom had just made it up on the spot then. With such movement, the rest of the gathered warriors met in battle, the silence broken, the audience cheering.

Marth then pushed his blade forward, unlocking their clashed swords and then swiftly swung it downwards towards Chrom’s exposed chest, but he was able to swap hands while their blades had met and using his right arm, brought the blade up to meet Marth’s advance, the two weapons bouncing off each other. But Marth was swifter and brought the blade down again – Chrom again blocked it. And again, and again, until they were a blur of clashing metal. Then, Marth jumped slightly, sending their feet out towards Chrom in an attempt to kick the blade out of his grip – or so Chrom thought – instead it was a distraction so Marth could swing around the in the air and swing their falchion down towards Chrom’s head.

Spotting his mistake, Chrom hopped sideways and brought his blade up to meet the advancing Marth. The only reason he’d recognise the plan, was because he offered such a fighting technique to Frederick recently and he’d said it was too risky.

“Tell me!” He yelled, over the excitement of the battle, “Who taught you to fight like that!?”

Their blades met once more, light and electricity seemed to be coursing off the twin blades as they were held together in a solid lock. Then Chrom pushed the full force of his weight into the blades and separated their lock, launching Marth some distance away.

Seeing the blue haired swords man ready their blade, Chrom did the same and the two surged towards each other, their blades meeting for a fraction of a second before pushing their wielders beside each other. Chrom slammed his feet into the ground to stop this movement, but when he turned, he was Marth spinning through the air, the same move Chrom used earlier. Except it was identical, right down to the minute movements.

“My Father!” Yelled Marth aggressively.

Chrom leapt forward as Marth brought their blade down into the ground.

There was now a distance between them, and Marth raised their sword; pointing it towards Chrom, clearly not tired. Which was good, as neither was he.

 

Martin was keeping his distance in battle, his attention caught between defeating his foe and observing Chrom. Their fight was like an elegant dance sometimes, other it was a violent beast.

One axe wielder came up to Martin from behind and grabbed him in a full body lock.

“Go ahead, tried to escape!” He mocked in his gruff voice.

Another axe user saw the opportunity and began running forward. This one female.

“Actually, escape isn’t the goal here! You though you’ve trapped me, but you’ve actually trapped yourself!” Martin explained before grabbing hold of the axeman’s body and sending a thunder spell into him directly.

The man let of a scream of intense pain and collapsed to the ground in an ugly heap. The woman, seeing this display of power, began backing up; unfortunately right into Frederick’s horse and axe.

 

Chrom continued his duel with the swordsman.

“Let us fight with honour. May the best soldier win!” Marth proposed.

“Who is your father?” Chrom asked.

“I've said enough for one day, sir.” Marth finished, returning to their warrior battle stance.

“Hmph. Is that how it is?” Chrom sighed. “Lissa owes you her life, and for that you have my gratitude. But within these walls, I represent the East-Khan and the interests of Ylisse. I can't promise to stay my blade, but I vow not to shame you.”

“Heh, never expected such youthful arrogance...” Muttered Marth. “We shall see who shames who!”

Then, a blast of electricity hit Marth in the chest, causing them to drop their weapon.

“Chrom promised not to shame you, but it’ll be easier to secure the interests of Ylisse this way – and besides, its not your company keeps much honour” Martin stated.

Chrom spun around, ready to order Martin to stand down – leaving Marth to him – but then he saw the situations. Martin’s right arm was bloody and there was a gash in his shirt which revealed a sealed wound over his heart. Lissa’s dress was torn in an unnatural way, not by weapon slashes, but by hands. Not only this but there would be no point for them to attack her as she couldn’t fight back.

“Blame the khan, not me, he appointed them!” Marth said, unmoved by the sight.

“ _Blame the khan_? You can’t be serious, they may not be your choice; but they’re your men and therefore you have an obligation to be at fault for their actions” Swore the furious Chrom, who immediately charged the blue swordsman.

Martin stumbled and Lissa let out a small scream. Vaike ran over to help lift him up while Lissa continued to heal the chest wound he had. One unlucky axeman had seen his allies be defeated and in their blind raged attacked Martin with killer instinct. Vaike had come to his rescue and pulled the man off him in time but leaving a nasty hole in Martin’s chest. Lissa had then arrived to heal him but the feral man broke out of Vaike’s control and grabbed at Lissa’s dress, but Martin whirled around and grabbed the man’s throat and using all his remaining strength forced a thunder spell into the man’s body, killing him instantly.

Chrom’s rage caused his strikes to become more aggressive and unpredictable with his strikes. Marth managed to block several attacks but in the end, his force was too great, and therefore he was forced to try attacking Chrom. Their blades met, locked again, but this time Chrom was the one to break the lock. He let go of the Falchion with on hand and swiftly punched Marth in the cheek – then, using the distraction, slammed his book squarely into his chest, launching him backwards and on to the floor in a heavy heap.

Chrom jumped on top of him, his blade pointed downwards at him throat.

“Do. You. Yield!? Killing isn’t against the rules and it would give me great pleasure now to end you; but you also have information I need, as well as Ylisse, and given the current times – the world needs as many skilled warriors as it can get its hands on. So I don’t want to kill you! Do. You. Yield!?”

Marth sighed and let their head drop to the floor. Though the pride brimming in their soul want to get back up and fight, Marth knew this fight was over.

“Impressive...if not surprising...” He muttered. “Yes.”

Horns and cheers erupted around the colosseum as victory was decided,

*

“Well fought! You have my respect. And, perhaps more to the point, you have your alliance. I will provide Ylisse with the soldiers she needs.” East-Khan, newly appointed Great-Khan, Flavia announced two hours later.

“Truly? Thank you, East-Khan.” Chrom smiled.

“I should thank you! It feels like ages since I've held full power. Come, my new friends! Tonight, we celebrate!” Flavia said and then sprinted out of the room, leaving the Shepherds in her dust.

As soon as she’d left, two figures entered, one was Marth and the other a bald and eye-patched dark-skinned man who wore rather ornate gold armour.

“Bah! Any excuse for a party and Flavia jumps on it...” Spat the man, turning Chrom’s attention from the blue haired swordsman, who seemed to have shrunk slightly since their last encounter.

“I'm sorry, have we met?” Chrom asked.

“I'm the West-Khan you so rudely removed from power! You're handy with a sword, boy. I thought for sure I'd picked the stronger man.” The khan gestured towards Marth.

Realising the opportunity, despite his presence, Chrom asked: “What do you know about him?”

“You mean that "Marth"? Bah! He's just some sell-sword with delusions of grandeur. All I know is that he turned up one eve and knocked my old champion flat. It was love at first sight, and I'm generally too old for such things! Baha!” The khan laughed loudly. Marth shuffled uncomfortably.

Moments later, the khan left, leaving the victorious Shepherds alone with Marth.

“Why?” Marth muttered. “Why are you so interested in knowing who I am?”

“Because that sword you carry- “He was cut off

“Is none of your concern Lord Chrom. You have your ancestral blade, I have mine. That ends it.”

And with that, Marth spun around and disappeared down a side corridor.

Martin and Lissa blinked, stunned with a red blush across their faces.

“He’s so mysterious” Lissa sighed.

“And cool.” Martin sighed.

“Unlike Chrom.” Lissa sighed

“*Ahem* I’m right here!” Asserted Chrom

“We know” Sighed the duo together.

“He’s so dark and mysterious... *siiigh*” Lissa continued. “Well, I mean, c'mon... He IS sort of dreamy, isn't he?” Lissa asked, apparently not noticing the deep scowl on her brother’s face.

“And YOU'RE sort of dreaming!” Growled Chrom.

“Yowch! Lighten up, Big Brother. We were just kidding.” Lissa defended, the red heat still lingering on both their faces.

“Milord? Milady? Martin? If this fascinating discussion is over, we'd best return home. The exalt will want this news of our new alliance immediately.” Frederick asserted, correctly.

“Right as always Frederick.” Chrom said.

“But the party?!” Vaike stammered.

“Isn’t for us. If you care so much we’ll have one back in Ylisstol” Chrom sighed, rubbing his temples.

Then the khan returned, with a new figure. “Hold, boy. Before you go, I have a little present for you.”

The man was tall and muscular, light skinned with messy brown hair. Wore armoured and furred myrmidon robes. He was silent.

“This is Lon'qu, my former champion. Not much for talking, mind you, but he's peerless with a sword. As good as Marth, in my mind. To be honest, I can't figure out how Marth bested him so quickly.” He explained.

“Marth, beat him? But he looks so big and strong...” Lissa said, approaching the swordsman.

“Away, woman!” Lon’qu panicked, drawing steel.

“Hey! Wh-what did I say?!” Lissa asked, panicked herself.

“Ba, ha, ha! Let's just say that ladies tend to put Lon'qu on edge. Nonetheless, he is capable. Perhaps he even has the makings of a khan. Consider him West Ferox's contribution to the Ylissean cause.” Asserted the west-khan.

“You're certain about this?” Chrom asked.

“Yes, yes. He's your man now.” Continued the khan.

“And Lon'qu? You have no objections?” Chrom continued.

“He gives orders. I stab people. I think our roles are clear.” Explained Lon’qu bluntly.

“...All right then. Welcome aboard.” Chrom extended a hand to shake but after three painful minutes of Lon’qu not reacting, he retracted the hand.


	10. Battlefield Unions

Chrom’s Shepherds had made camp some miles outside Regna Ferox, somewhere remotely warm and Vaike decided he couldn’t wait until Ylisstol for a party and launched his own. The camp was a short ways out of a large village which Chrom had disappeared into with Frederick when they had arrived.

“*Pant, pant* All right! Enough... I... I yield. *Wheeze* Gods, Stahl. You're a damn beast today.” Sully exclaimed, exhausted after just four rounds of training.

“*Pant* It's all thanks to your training, Sully.” Explained Stahl, moving his sweaty green hair out of his eyes.

“No one made you strong. You were tough to begin with.” Sully smiled, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“So does this mark the end of Sully's reign of terror?” Smirked Stahl.

Sully gave a hearty chuckle. “For today. But there's always tomorrow.”

“I knew you weren't going to give up quietly. You've always worked harder and aspired higher than anyone. You're amazing.” Complimented Stahl as Sully began to collect their training equipment which had been scattered in their intense sparring matches.

Sully paused. “Yeah, well, I never could've done it without you around. It's easy to keep on the path when you've got someone walking beside you. You're about the best training partner I've ever had.” She said turning slightly to face him, there was a slight blush heating her face as she said it.

Stahl swallowed hard. Then gently placing down the equipment, reached into his pocket and pulled out a small silver hoop with a red gemstone encrusted into it. He walked over to the confused Sully and shyly held out the objected, asking: “Um, yeah. Well, maybe I could be more than just a... training partner?”

“Wait, what are you... Stahl, are you giving me a ring?” There was not a bright pink blush on her face, this matched to one on Stahl’s own.

“Yeah. It's a... wedding ring. I'm still more Mouse than Panther most days. But with you at my side, I can become the man and knight I aspire to be. And I want to be there to spur you along, too. ...Not that you need it.” He shyly explained, the pink in his getting brighter with every word. Then, he swallowed again and stood up straight, and looked her dead in the eye.

“That's a pretty bold offer, Mr. Mouse.” Sully smirked.

“Yeah, I may look confident, but I'm about to soil my good pair of trousers. If it weren't for you, I'd never be able to ask something like this. You're my courage, Sully.”

This broke Sully confidence. The crimson blush overtook her face and it took all her might not to cry from that single, simple sentence.

“That's actually very sweet. ...You know what? I accept. We've got a long ways to go, but I'd have no other travelling companion. It's you and me to the end, Stahl.” She managed, her voice wavering.

Gingerly and gently, Sully took the silver and red ring and placed it on her ring finger.

“Then here's to the new Bull and Panther!” Stahl smiled.

Sully grabbed him in a tight hold and pressed her lips to his. They were softer than he expected. They remained like that for several minutes before Sully just let him hold her in his hands.

The new Bull and Panther.


	11. Admit and Accept

Chrom had returned. Unfortunately, not without issue.

“Chrom! Are you all right?!” Martin yelled, rushing into Chrom’s personal tent. Finding the prince shirtless with Lissa waiting next to him.

Martin went bright red upon seeing the chiselled, godlike features of Chrom’s torso.

“Er, yes, I'm fine. ...What's got you so excited?” Chrom asked. Not noticing that in the current situation, two different versions of excited could be used to describe Martin.

“I heard you were attacked behind the mess tent!”

“Pfft! Some local thug approached with a dagger, but he bolted when I drew iron. It was dark... The poor fellow probably thought he was mugging a merchant! Ha!” Laughed the prince, pulling a simple silk shirt over his body instead of his armour.

“You challenged him alone?!” Martin asked, worry deep in his voice.

“Well, I wouldn't say "challenged," exactly. More like "shooed away." Can't very well just leave that sort around the camp now, can we?” Chrom said narrowing his eyes.

“By the gods, Chrom! Please, I beg you, do not take any more of these foolish risks.”

“Hah! You do realise what's happening to the world right now, right? Just walking onto the battlefield is a risk.”

“I don't fear anyone besting you head-on; I fear you being stabbed in the back! Many of your enemies do not share your sense of honour. I for one don’t.” Martin argued.

“Do you really think some random cutpurse would get the better of me?” Chrom asked, sounding slightly hurt.

“Shall I list every hero who said that before being poisoned, sniped, or snared?” Martin asked, pulling out a thick book.

“Well, I don't think a list is necess—” Chrom trailed off noticing the book.

“You're our COMMANDER, Chrom... Battlefield victories mean nothing if an army loses its leader. You are no longer simply your own man. You stand for all of us.” Martin said, with genuine concern and worry, and placing a hand on Chrom’s shoulder.

“Enough... You have a point. You're right...as you always are. I will be more careful. Thank you, Martin.” Chrom sighed before leaving the tent.

Martin groaned and sat down on one of the cushions in Chrom’s lavish tent.

“You alright?” Lissa asked, sitting down next to him.

“To him, it may seem like I keep nagging at him to do this or be like this, but as the Shepherd’s tactician: it’s my job to act like this – feel like Chrom doesn’t see this…” Martin explain.

“…There’s a lot my brother fails to see.” Lissa smirked, “Like your pants for instance.”

Martin went bright red; he hadn’t realised anyone had noticed.

“I… You… it was… from earlier… I… um…” He stammered, trying to make up an excuse.

“Don’t worry about it Martin, I saw how you reacted to Marth and Chrom – maybe blue haired swordsmen are your thing.” She smiled warmly.

“You mean… **it’s** allowed in Ylisse” Martin asked.

“Only recently, it was actually one of Emmeryn’s first acts as Exalt to allow unions of all kinds – she wanted equality and freedom and she’s strived more than most to get it.” She explained, then her face dropped slightly, “But… Chrom never struck me as the kind of guy who went that way… then again… its hard to see him in a relationship more intimate than friends.”

“Oh… well I suppose having a small crush on our group’s commander **is** a bad thing.” Martin shyly suggested.

“Perhaps” Lissa said. There was silence in the tent for a few moments before she continued. “But hey, loving who you love isn’t a bad thing”

“Yeah… but don’t get the wrong idea – I like girls!” He added swiftly.

Lissa let out a small chuckle. “Then relax, I don’t think anyone in the Shepherds will judge you. And if you need to talk to someone who’s… equally less inclined to love the opposite… I’m always willing to talk” She winked before leaving the tent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Essentially, Lissa is bisexual in this story.
> 
> And the only reason is because that's my head-canon.


End file.
